The Murder of Clark Kent
by Jade4813
Summary: When she sees Clark killed right before her eyes, how far will Lois go to bring his murderer to justice? Inspired by This Old Gang of Mine from Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. Clois.
1. Chapter 1: The Light that Changes

**A/N:** Okay...I was going to wait a few days to kickstart this, but...yeah...apparently I'm not going to.

So, now the ubiquitous "I own none of these characters and am making no profit" disclaimer. And now for a little author's warning. This story is darker than my previous ones, and will probably involve some strong language, etc. So, if you're looking for fluff...you might wait it out until I begin posting the YoaR sequel. ;)

**The Murder of Clark Kent**

**Chapter 1: The Light that Changes Everything**

The clock on the dashboard read 4:52, and Clark's hand paused as his fingers brushed against the ignition key. With a quick glance around, he wondered at a sudden certainty that there was something ominous in the air, but nothing seemed peculiar or out of place. With a quick shake of his head, Clark killed the engine and threw open the door to his truck; his imagination was playing tricks on him.

Stepping down from the cab, he slipped the keys into his pocket and gave another quick glance around. Though he told himself it was nothing, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't know why; there was nothing about this morning that seemed markedly different from any other. Still, if he was the type to believe in such things, he would say that the eerie stillness in the air could only be some sort of bad omen. The world was quiet – no dog barking in the distance broke the silence; he didn't even have the familiar chirping of crickets to give him comfort. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation, though Clark had no idea what it was waiting for.

Then again, he also had no idea what he was doing, coming out here at a time that any reasonable person would be home in bed. Of course, he wasn't with any reasonable person; he was with Lois Lane. "Hey, Smallville, you forget how to walk or something? Let me help; you just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you either run into something or I tell you to stop." Her voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned to catch the flash of a smile in the faint light that had just barely begun to spill over the horizon. Clearly she wasn't troubled by the same sense of foreboding.

"Very funny, Lois. I was just wondering if there was a particular reason you wanted me to drive you out here – to the middle of nowhere, I might point out – at a time that you're usually not even conscious. Or is this just another of your whims?" he asked, trying to sound churlish in an attempt to hide his anxiety as he shoved his hands into his pockets and glowered in her direction. Barely a half hour had passed since he'd gotten the cryptic phone call that had dragged him out of bed and across town. If it wasn't for the irrational anxiety that was currently prickling at the edges of his consciousness, he wouldn't have minded having his slumber interrupted by such a summons – though of course he would still make sure to pretend he did; it wouldn't be a good idea to admit to his companion that he actually he enjoyed accompanying her on her adventures.

Lois laughed and stepped around the truck to link her arm through his. Leaning close, she grinned and murmured, "Maybe I just thought you'd be intrigued by the novelty of seeing me awake before noon. Now, come on. I don't think we have much time."

Clark's brows rose as she dragged him forward a few feet, heading towards the front door to the decrepit building that was the only structure around for miles. "Until what?" he asked, giving the monstrosity of concrete and metal in front of him a dubious look. A solitary, worn-down security lamp cast a small pool of light that was almost depressing in its inadequacy. In fact, Clark's opinion of the building in front of him was far from improved by the added illumination. It had probably been a warehouse or a factory, once upon a time, but several eons might have passed since then.

"Lois, until what?" he repeated, but when it became clear she wasn't going to answer him, he dug in his heels so that she jerked to a stop by his side. After a couple minutes of ineffectual tugging, she glared up at him through the fringe of her light brown bangs. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," he said, unflinchingly meeting her gaze. If his odd anxiety wasn't completely unfounded, then Lois would likely find herself in danger (as usual) before too long, and Clark knew he'd have a better chance at protecting her if he had some kind of idea what to expect inside the building.

Blowing out her breath in an exasperated sigh, Lois glanced around anxiously and then stepped close to him. In a low murmur, she explained, "Okay, look. I didn't really want to tell you about this because I knew you wouldn't be happy about it. In fact, I figured you'd try to stop me if you knew." Clark tried to hide his sudden flash of alarm. That didn't bode well. "We're here because Peter Williams contacted me and told me he wanted to meet me here this morning, but he's sure there are people after him, so I don't have much time before he goes back into hiding."

"The guy who used to work for LuthorCorp but was fired because they said he was mentally unstable?" Clark demanded, suddenly feeling like his irrational anxiety wasn't entirely unwarranted, particularly in light of the contact's obvious paranoia. "Lois, this isn't a good idea. You have no idea who this guy is; for all you know, he could be dangerous!"

"Why, Clark, I had no idea you worried so much about me," Lois said lightly, her teasing tone designed to diffuse the tension between the two of them and failing miserably.

"More than you know," he retorted, looking at her in concern. It had certainly taken a long time for the two of them to come to terms with their friendship, but, now that they had, he found that she'd given him more cause for concern in the course of one year than Lana – or anyone else – had done in the entire time he'd known them. Lois was, quite simply, too daring for her own good; she almost never looked before she leaped, and he was beginning to think the only "duck" in her vocabulary was the type to be found floating around in ponds.

Her eyes turned serious as she entreated, "I appreciate your concern, but I have to do this. Don't you understand? I _finally_ have a shot at getting a real story published! This could be my chance to get into respectable journalism; do you think I want to write stories about aliens for the rest of my life?"

Clark wasn't entirely convinced that this was the best idea. "I thought you were trying to find a way to bring Lex Luthor down, not help him out." Not that trying to bring down any member of the Luthor family wasn't dangerous enough in its own right, but Clark had to pick his battles and for the moment, that meant choosing the potential long-term threat over the immediate one.

Lois huffed. "First of all, if the Luthors were so easily caught with their hands in the cookie jar, they'd have been thrown in jail a long time ago. I'm working on exposing Lex as the murderous, underhanded slime that he is, but it's going to take time. And it doesn't help that nobody's going to take me seriously or give me any of the answers I need when I work for a paper like the _Inquisitor_.

"And besides, while I might not be Lex's biggest fan, this string of so-called "accidents" at the Luthor facilities has cost the corporation billions. That's a lot of people's jobs on the line, if the person behind the sabotage isn't discovered and stopped."

Clark sighed. She made a lot of sense (and he hated when she made sense), but he tried to look out for her safety one last time, anyway. "And meeting with this guy is that important? You couldn't finish your story any other way?"

Scowling, Lois shook her head. "No, and believe me, I've tried. I've been following this story for the past month, and I've been getting nowhere. Every lead I've followed so far has dried up, and I'm running out of brilliant ideas. But this guy is supposed to have actual _proof_ that the recent string of failures at LuthorCorp was more than just bad luck. I _need_ this, Clark."

Something in her eyes seemed to give her cause to think she was getting through to him, because she rested her hand on his chest and said comfortingly, "I'm not an idiot, I know how dangerous this could be. But I didn't come completely unprepared, after all. I brought you, didn't I?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" he demanded, breaking out in a cold sweat. She couldn't possibly know about him and his abilities. Could she?

Rolling her eyes, Lois huffed, "I don't know how you do it, farmboy, but you always manage to be in the right place at the right time." She almost sounded irritated about this tendency of his, but, then again, he knew she hated to admit to the number of times he'd saved her life. That the two of them had become pretty good friends over the past couple of years clearly didn't make it any easier for her to admit that she actually needed help – even rescuing – once and a while.

Frowning, Clark let the subject drop and looked away, his gaze sweeping across the empty fields surrounding them. Okay, so maybe the man they'd come to meet was unstable; maybe, according to the rumors of his behavior, he was potentially dangerous. Still, Clark had no doubt that, if he refused to accompany Lois on this interview, she would return later by herself, and then there would be nobody around to protect her. "Five minutes," he capitulated grudgingly.

With narrowed eyes, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried to renegotiate. "Fifteen." When he shook his head firmly, she snapped, "You know, I could always come back later."

"Okay, fine. Then ten. But, seriously, Lois. You have to be careful."

"I always am!" she assured him, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

Clark groaned and, as was probably inevitable, capitulated. Following Lois's lead, he approached the doors to the warehouse cautiously. When he'd tried to use his x-ray vision to see inside, it hadn't worked – there had to either be lead in the walls or, more likely, the interior of the warehouse had been painted in lead-based paint – so he had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

In front of him, Lois grabbed on to the handle to the wide double doors and gave it a sharp yank, but it didn't quite give. Frowning, she tried again. Still, it didn't open; years of disuse and disrepair had obviously taken their toll, and she cursed under her breath.

"Here, let me try," Clark said, preempting her suggestion that they look for a window to crawl through. If there was going to be trouble, he'd learned it was best to have a quick exit route available, and that meant not trying to squeeze through a narrow opening. Before she could protest, he grabbed hold of the handle and yanked. The door pulled open with a protesting screech of metal against metal, and the two of them scooted inside. However, when Clark saw the irritated look Lois through him out of the corner of his eye, he shrugged and said, "You loosened it up for me, I guess."

"Yeah. Right," she replied flatly before turning her attention back to the interior of the room. It was dark and dusty, and even Clark's superior vision couldn't penetrate too far into the shadowy recesses of the room. Tilting his head back, he managed to make out rickety metal catwalk lining the circumference of the room – he supposed there were doors up there that had presumably lead to storage areas, once upon a time – but it was empty now. "Mr. Williams?" Lois called, her voice echoing in the vast space. "It's Lois Lane! You called me a couple hours ago?"

There was no answer, so they made their way further inside. The warehouse wasn't completely empty. Strewn across the floor were the remnants of the business that had once existed here – broken tables, abandoned wooden crates, empty metallic barrels, and twisted bits of metal. Everything was quiet, however; there was certainly no evidence of Lois's contact.

"You sure he said to meet you here?" Clark asked in confusion as he looked around. It was possible, he supposed, that Lois had the address wrong.

Sounding as perplexed as he felt, she replied, "Yeah. He was pretty emphatic about it, in fact. He said there was something here he needed to show me. I don't understand why he…" Her voice trailed off as she pulled a flashlight out of her bag and switched it on, sweeping it in a wide arc around the area. When it illuminated their surroundings, Clark noted with interest that not everything in the abandoned warehouse looked old and decrepit. Some of the crates looked newer than the others; apparently, somebody still had some use for the old building.

Together, they made their way slowly towards the center of the room. It wasn't long, however, before Clark realized something was seriously wrong. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was struck by that old, familiar weakness that could only mean one thing: green meteor rocks were somewhere nearby. With a pained gasp, he staggered slightly to the left until he ran into the side of an oversized crate.

"Clark! Are you okay?" Lois cried as she shot to his side and searched his face worriedly.

Swallowing heavily, Clark forced his body erect. After the initial shock of the exposure, he discovered that, while painful, it wasn't debilitating, which meant the meteor rock was close but not within the immediate proximity. If he was careful, he could hide his weakness from Lois, at least for a few moments. Of course, his ability to protect her would be seriously compromised, unless he could find a way to convince her it was time to leave. "I-I'm fine," he managed to gasp as he forced himself to straighten. "I just…I think there must be…fumes or something," he lied. "I'm just not feeling very well, all of a sudden."

Her brow furled in concern, Lois swept his hair back and pressed the flat of her hand against his forehead. "You do feel hot; I wonder if you might be coming down with something." Then, after searching his face worriedly for a moment, she nibbled on her lower lip and threw a quick look over her shoulder. "Okay, well…it looks like maybe we missed him. Let me just have one last quick look around, and then we'll go."

Clark felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he staggered after her, trying to hide how much every step forward intensified his agony. Since it became clear that he was only succeeding in moving closer to the meteor rocks that were the source of his distress, he finally had to concede defeat and staggered to a halt after only a few feet; he didn't dare move forward any further or the pain really would become debilitating.

As it happened, however, he didn't need to go much further to find the object of their search. Immediately in front of him, Lois stumbled to a halt and gasped, staring at something in the gloomy interior of the warehouse. With gritted teeth, Clark edged closer to her until he could see what had stopped the incomparable – and usually unflappable – Lois Lane in her tracks.

When Clark moved forward, he noticed that the tiny light in Lois's hand was no longer the sole source of light in the room. A tiny lantern, the type he used to take when he went camping with his dad years before, rested on its side on the floor at her feet, its weak light barely illuminating the figure lying on the ground nearby. It was a man, laying face-down on the floor, his limbs splayed out at odd angles. Though it was hard to see much in the unsteady light of Lois's flashlight (the jerkiness of the beam lead Clark to suspect her hand was trembling slightly) as it swept over the body, it didn't take much imagination to suppose the man was dead. He was simply too still, his body contorted at an unnatural angle as he lay sprawled out on the floor with the boneless grace that the living could never quite manage.

"Lois, we should get out of here," Clark said in a pained voice as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She was still staring at the corpse with wide eyes, and she looked like she'd been stunned into immobility.

"W-wait," she replied in a choked voice, and he saw her swallow heavily a couple of times before she turned to face him. "We should make sure he's…Before we go, we should at least make sure he's…"

He knew what she was thinking, even if she couldn't quite manage to say it out loud, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that her hope was in vain. The man in front of them wasn't wounded, he wasn't incapacitated, and he wasn't unconscious. He was dead. However, Clark understood that Lois had never been the type to take anything on faith, even something as glaringly obvious as this. She always had to check things out for herself.

Clark wished he could move to her side as she crouched and reached towards the corpse with trembling fingers, but as it was, his proximity to the meteor rocks made him feel like he was boiling alive from the inside out. Glancing around, he couldn't see the faint telltale green glow of Kryptonite, and he didn't dare make any movement that might bring him even closer to its hiding place. However, what Lois discovered clearly confirmed what he already knew, because she looked up at him and shook her head mournfully. "We're too late," she murmured.

"Lois, I'm sorry," he said honestly as she rose to her feet. "Come on; we should call the –"

"Wait. He's…he's still warm," Lois murmured, frowning down at the body. Then, as comprehension struck, she grabbed his arm urgently, but Clark was a step ahead of her.

As he grabbed her hand and pulled her backwards, further from both the corpse and, hopefully, the Kryptonite, Clark threw a glance over his shoulder, his eyes searched the darkness for any sign of movement. He didn't see anything, but…wait… There was movement beyond their tiny circle of light; on the catwalk on the other side of the room, the dim light streaming in from the narrow windows reflected off something metallic. It was the barrel of a gun, and it was pointed their way.

"NO!" Clark cried, reaching forward. Though his body still felt like it was on fire, he managed to get his arms around Lois's waist, spinning her to the side and throwing her to the ground, as the shot rang out. The flashlight clattered to the floor, she followed immediately after it, and as she landed, he flung himself on top of her, acting as a human shield.

Clark's breath was coming in ragged gasps when he fell on top of her. He almost hadn't seen the gunman in time; if he'd delayed even a second longer… But, no, he looked down at the woman beneath him and breathed a sigh of relief. Their faces were inches apart; he could feel the soft brush of her ragged breath against his cheek, could just make out every fleck of gold and every ounce of fear in her wide hazel eyes in the dim light – but she was alive. "Oh, my God," she breathed, arching her neck to look around the protection of his body. "Clark! What –?"

"Are you okay?" he demanded fiercely, pulling her gaze back to his. In a moment, they could worry about the man still shrouded by darkness, but for now, he had to know that she wasn't hurt.

"I-I'm fine," she assured him, her eyes searching his face. "You?"

"I'm fine." Raising up slightly on his elbows, Clark twisted to the side, shifting his weight off of her so he could look around, desperately searching for the nearest exit. He didn't have any idea where the gunman was, and with the meteor rocks nearby, he lacked the ability to keep Lois safe. Whatever else happened, he had to get her out of here alive.

He was so busy concentrating on his task, it took a moment for Lois's gasp to register. Turning to look at her, he saw the red discoloration on her formerly pristine tank top and blouse, but the full implications of what it meant didn't immediately sink in. "Wh-What –?" she stammered in confusion. At first, he thought she'd been injured; it wasn't until he looked down and saw the stain quickly spreading across the front of his t-shirt that he realized he was wrong.

Lois wasn't the one who'd been shot.

It was strange, he thought as he touched his fingers to the growing wet stain on his shirt. Shouldn't he feel something? Surely he shouldn't be this numb. He'd taken a bullet to the chest; he should be screaming in pain by now. But even the familiar burning of meteor rock exposure had faded. He didn't feel anything. He was just…numb.

In incomprehension, he pulled his hand away to stare at the sticky red liquid on his fingertips. "Lois –?" he began softly, meeting her eyes, and in that second, the strange numbness was gone, to be replaced by searing agony that stole his breath away.

* * *

"Clark!" Lois cried – or at least she thought she did – as she scrambled next to him and wrapped her arms protectively around his chest, supporting his weight as his body sagged against her. "No, no, please, no!" She barely understood the words that were coming out of her mouth; she hardly recognized her voice as her own. 

She had to _think_. All that time she'd spent on military bases, all that training she'd picked up over the years, she knew she'd learned what to do for a gunshot wound. Except this wasn't just any other training session, and it wasn't any other victim. This was _Clark_ and he'd been _shot_, and she couldn't seem to pull herself together. Her world no longer allowed room for logical thought. There was simply the terror that robbed her of her ability to think. There was fear, and blood, and the sound of Clark's labored gasps as he fought for air.

Then her hand was captured in his, and at the feeling of flesh against flesh, her gaze flew to his. His eyes – those eyes so beautiful a blue it had been known to take her breath away – were clouded in pain, and suddenly instinct took over and she knew just what to do. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed nothing but shadows; she had no idea where the shooter was or what he was doing. Though it seemed like an eternity had passed since the loud crack of the shot being fired, in actuality, it had been mere seconds; she had to get Clark behind some cover, before the shooter fired again. "It's okay, Clark," she murmured to him, her voice sounding tense and strained as she shifted his weight against her body. "I'm going to get us out of here; you're going to be okay." She'd meant to provide comfort, but the words sounded more like a prayer than a promise.

Staying low to the ground, she threw her weight backwards, trying to pull Clark behind a nearby crate, but he moved barely an inch. He was just too heavy, and though he tried to help, his scrambling legs couldn't seem to find much purchase. "Come on; please, come on," she sobbed, trying again. Inch by arduous inch, she dragged him precious three feet to cover.

A small pool of blood smeared on the ground was the path Lois followed back to her flashlight, which had gone out when it fell to the ground. As quickly as she could, Lois lunged toward it and grabbed it in one shaking fist, fumbling with the switch to turn it on. Rewarded for her efforts with a dim beam of light, Lois almost cried out in relief and hastened back to Clark's side.

Crouching over him, Lois held her breath as she assessed his injury, though it was hard to see much in the unsteady light. Was the bulb really flickering that badly, or was it the force of her trembling that caused the beam to jerk so drastically that she could barely discern what was right in front of her eyes? One gunshot wound to the chest – entrance wound in the back, roughly two inches from his right shoulder. Exit wound in the front, close to his heart. Too close to his heart. His skin was pale, his lips tinged blue; she knew what she was going to find before she even pressed her ear to his chest – that distinctive rattle indicative of a collapsed lung.

His chest was filling up with air, and there wasn't much Lois could do about it. She was hardly a doctor – she wasn't even really a field medic – but what little she had picked up over the years was little good to her now, since she lacked the requisite supplies to deal with the situation. She didn't even really have time, since the sniper was still out there somewhere and she had no idea how long it would be before he found them both.

Of course, thinking of the difficulties she faced did little to diminish the simple fact that she had to get Clark to a hospital immediately. As soon she realized how little time he had left if she didn't do something fast, her hands began to shake so violently that the flashlight became next to useless, so she tossed it aside. Very gently, she laid Clark on his back and tore off the button-up blouse she was wearing over her tank top. She had to apply pressure to his wound; he was losing blood too quickly, and as long as she was careful to avoid letting the cloth get sucked inside the hole, it would forestall some of the air that was seeping into his chest cavity – air that would eventually fill the room his good lung needed to function, causing him to slowly suffocate to death. If he didn't bleed out first.

Worse then both the blood and influx of air, however, was that Clark was losing consciousness. Lois grabbed his hand in a fierce grip and leaned closer to his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Clark! Stay with me Clark! Come on, honey, you have to stay with me," she hissed urgently.

Her words must have penetrated, because he offered her a weak smile and mumbled, "Lois…you just…call me…honey?"

"Yes," she sobbed as she felt the strength draining out of him by the second. "I'll call you anything you want me to, just stay with me, okay? I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to stay with me. Can you do that for me? Just don't close your eyes and don't try to talk."

He squeezed her fingers, but his grip was so weak in hers, she barely felt it. His blue eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing, and when he tried to speak she could barely make out the words. "Not…good with…uncomfortable silences," he mumbled, and his eyes fluttered shut.

"No…no…come on, Clark, don't leave me like this! I know you're stronger than this; please, open your eyes! I can't lose you, not now!" she cried, wanting to shake him, but she couldn't remove the pressure she was placing on his wound. Instead, she released his hand and stroked her palm across his damp forehead, down his cheek, to his shoulder. Clutching it tightly, she whimpered through the tears that had started to fall, "P-please Clark, just o-open your eyes. You c-can do this, I kn-know it. J-just don't leave m-me now. I n-need yo-"

Lois's passionate entreaty broke off when a hand came down from behind her and grabbed on a fistful of her hair, pulling her unceremoniously to her feet. She let out a soft cry and a gasp, her eyes watering from the pain as the man accosting her used the hold he had on her hair to yank her head backwards at a painful angle, then he wrapped an unyielding arm around her neck and squeezed.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he demanded in her ear as she gasped for breath and clawed ineffectually at the vice that was cutting off her air. She felt her legs flailing, and she tried to kick backwards to make contact with her attacker's legs, but whoever he was, he knew what he was doing. He was taller than she was and was holding her high enough off the ground that she had to stand on the balls of her feet to find purchase; she simply didn't have the leverage it required to do any major damage. The way he was holding her prevented her from snapping her head back to make contact with his face, and when she managed to get enough presence of mind to stop wasting her efforts in clawing at his arm (as it clearly wasn't doing any good) and tried to elbow him instead, her blows were shrugged off as if they were no more significant that mosquito bites.

She was running out of options faster than she was running out of air, and with the darkness creeping along the edges of her vision, she knew she didn't have much time before she was completely out of both. In a desperate move, Lois grabbed on to the arm around her neck with her left hand and reached up to her attacker's face with her right, raking her fingernails desperately against his skin as soon as she made contact.

That got his attention. He let out a cry of pain and screamed, "You stupid little bitch!" Though she'd been hoping her actions might have prompted him to lighten the grip he had around her neck, he clenched her even tighter and used his free hand to land a few painful blows against her side, instead.

The darkness was creeping in faster now; she didn't have long before she lost consciousness entirely. But she'd managed to hurt him, and if she got him angry enough, she figured he'd want to retaliate more effectually than he could right now. He'd want to beat her with his bare hands, she knew, and to do that, he'd have to release the grip he had around his neck.

Knowing she had only seconds left, Lois tried to rake his face with her nails again, but this time, he was anticipating the move. As he grabbed on to her offending hand and squeezed, he released the grip he had around her neck, as she'd expected. Lois dropped to the ground heavily, but she barely had enough time to fill her lungs with one torturous gulp of air when her attacker twisted the hand he had in his grip behind her back, cruelly yanking it between her shoulder blades with enough force that she felt her right shoulder dislocate.

Lois would have cried out in pain, but there wasn't enough oxygen in her burning lungs to let out more than a tiny yelp, almost a squeak. With gritted teeth, she tried to steel herself against the throbbing agony of her dislocated shoulder; as her father had taught her, sometimes a little pain had to be tolerated until the fight was over, if it meant getting away from her enemy. And she had to get away. When her attacker had hauled her to her feet, she'd dropped the shirt she'd been pressing against Clark's wound to the ground. With nothing staunching the blood or slowing the seepage of air into his chest cavity, she knew he was losing valuable time, and he couldn't possibly have much left.

That was when Lois made a critical mistake. She shot a desperate glance down at the man sprawled out at her feet, and through the tears that were clouding her own vision, she saw his eyes flutter open and try to focus on her. "Clark," she whimpered, unable to do anything more than that, and she saw as realization of her plight crossed his pained features. His face contorted with fury, and she saw him try to sit up and reach out to her, but he was clearly too weak.

Paralyzed with the need to return to his side, Lois had lost valuable time. The sharp yank her attacker gave suddenly to her wounded arm, causing her to whimper anew as fire spread from her shoulder outwards, was somewhat expected. What she didn't expect was the second attacker, materializing out of the shadows and bringing one fist against her face with enough force to snap her head to the side, stealing what remained of her consciousness.

"…not going to be happy," she heard one of them say as consciousness returned slowly.

As she tried to force her eyes open, she heard the other reply, "He wanted me to clean up his mess, didn't he? It's not my fault these two stuck their noses where they didn't belong."

"Whaddya suppose they were doing there?" the first asked from her left, and Lois wished she could see his face. She wondered if he looked as twitchy and anxious as he sounded.

"Maybe old warehouses turn her on; how the hell should I know? The boss can ask her himself when we take her to him." That brought her to in a hurry, though she was careful not to make any noise that would alert her attackers that she was conscious once more. The situation couldn't get much worse, and she didn't want to play her hand until she had some sort of plan. It was clear the two of them worked for someone else, they were going to take her to him, and she had no idea how far away from Clark that journey would take her. One thing was for sure: she doubted they were transporting her for the pleasure of having her company for tea. She had to get away, and fast, before a .45 to the side of the head was her parting gift.

Cracking her eyes open a bit, Lois realized that someone – presumably her primary attacker – had slung her over his shoulder and carried her outside, likely taking her to a vehicle of some sort. Her ribs were sore, as if they were bruised by being struck repeatedly in the last few minutes, but she ignored the throbbeing and tried to concentrate on her surroundings instead. While she tried to get her bearings, she heard him say, "Everything set?"

"Yeah, got it right here," Twitchy replied. "You sure you just want to leave that guy in there like that?"

"He'll be dead soon anyway," the man behind her replied scornfully. Lois wanted to scream, to cry, to kill with her bare hands. She knew they were talking about Clark, and they clearly couldn't care less that her best friend was losing precious life by the second.

Before she could betray herself by making a noise or beating against the mountain's back with her fists, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car door opening and felt the man carrying her shift his weight. Readjusting the hold he had on her, he began to lower her to the ground – presumably as a precursor to loading her into the vehicle – and she finally had her opening. Lois did her best to remain limp for as long as possible, but as soon as she felt the ground under her toes, her eyes flew open and she looked up into her attacker's startled face for a brief second.

In the moment she allowed herself, she got a brief impression of dark eyes and too-bleached-blonde hair, and she saw four parallel scratches down his right cheek – her gift to him. She also saw a faint scar, white against his tanned skin, running in a curve that began at the corner of his left eyebrow and ended just beneath his cheekbone. She didn't waste much time on details, however, since she could see the surprise slowly drain from his expression. If she waited any longer, her only chance at escape would be gone.

He was still holding her at eye level, so Lois whipped her head forward, bringing her temple hard against his nose. She heard the satisfying cracking sound that meant she'd broken something, and he released his hold on her as he let out a sharp cry, his head snapping back.

This time, Lois was ready. Her legs were unsteady beneath her, her lungs still tight enough to make every breath an effort, but she tried to ignore the pain as she staggered forward. Though she knew the smarter move would be to veer to the right and try to lose her attackers among the trees that surrounded the back of the property, she headed straight for the door to the warehouse instead. Nothing was more important right now than getting to Clark. He was mortally injured; his chances of survival decreased with every second she lost.

She ran as fast as she could, but she knew it wasn't going to be fast enough. Her previous exertions had taken their toll. If her attackers really wanted her, they'd have no problem catching up to her, and she harbored no illusions about what Scar would do to her if he got his hands on her again. To her mild amazement, however, they didn't seem to be in pursuit. She heard Twitchy yell something after her and Scar bark something at him, but neither man came after her.

Lois was less than a yard from the door, under the flickering light of the old security lamp, when the warehouse exploded. At first, she couldn't comprehend what had happened. It was as if, in her mind, the light itself lifted her off her feet. Glass exploded all around her, hungry flames reached out to embrace her, and a heat so intense it seared what little oxygen she had in her lungs away as it slammed into her, and still, all her poor, broken mind could focus on at first was how it was curious that she could be so affected by mere light.

Consciousness was once again fleeting, and she knew that battle would be lost even before she hit the ground. She might not survive the landing, she knew, and even if she did, there was going to be no way for her to escape the rubble as it fell around her or the flames when they finally caught up to her. No, she was going to burn to ash with no one the wiser, no one to mourn her, along with the rest of the broken-down and forgotten debris in the warehouse. Just like Clark.

"Clark," she murmured desperately, though she knew there was nothing that could be done for him any longer as she felt the light toss her aside like a discarded ragdoll, an angel fallen from grace.

Her last thought, that her mind was playing tricks on her, making her imagine a large figure blocking out the heat and light of the flames, wrapping her in strong arms tucked protectively around her, slipped away, along with her consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2: Returning to Life

**Chapter 2: Returning to Life**

_Is this what death feels like? _Lois wondered as a bright light seared its way through her corneas and into her brain. _Because if so, it's seriously overrated._

She supposed, the more she thought about it, she didn't really mind being dead. It probably beat a few other things she could name, if she really wanted to go so far as to seriously consider the matter. Actually, with the exception of that damned light that was blinding her _(Can dead people go blind? Ah, doesn't matter, really)_ and stabbing its way into her brain like a knife, making her wish she was dead (_Ha, ha. Little corpse humor there, Lois.)_, it wasn't half bad.

Then again, it seemed like there was a reason she should mind being dead, she reflected as the light finally left her alone _(Ah, blissful peace. Now this is more like it)_. There was something she was forgetting. She tried to remember, but it was entirely possible a full quota of her brain cells hadn't made the leap to the other side with her, because she just couldn't quite bring the pertinent memory, so tantalizingly close to her awareness that it nagged at her, to mind.

Hm. Maybe it was that load of laundry she'd put in the wash. Yes, that had to be it. She'd forgotten to hang up the clothes she'd run through the dryer the night before, and now all her blouses were going to be wrinkled and she was going to need to iron them. She hated ironing only slightly more than she hated sewing, and she _really_ hated sewing. Well, she supposed it wasn't really her problem to deal with now. Did morticians iron the shirts of the demised before burial, or was that someone else's unenviable job? And was there really enough of Lois left to bury?

Now that was a strange thought. All the little Lois ashes, gathered together and shoved inside one of her pretty red blouses. Wait…red? Where had that come from? The load of laundry she'd put through the wash had been white. She remembered, because when she'd raced out of the apartment that morning at a godforsaken hour, she'd stopped only long enough to grab one of them and fling it over her red tank top.

There it was again, that color, and Lois imagined her dead face forming a frown as she tried to puzzle it out. No, no, no…The tank top hadn't been red originally. It had been…pale blue. Hadn't it? Yes, pale blue. She loved that color. The red had come later. Where did the red come from?

Blood. A shot in the dark. A flashlight clattering to the ground. Labored breathing, pained gasps. Rattling in a chest cavity that was filling with air. Images flew past her mind's eye almost too fast to process. Familiar blue eyes clouded in pain.

Clark!

Lois cried out, she was almost certain of it _(Dead people don't have mouths, Lo. Or tongues, or teeth, or voice boxes…or lungs, come to think of it. So how exactly do you think you made that sound?)_. She imagined she felt something warm and wet trickle out of what had once been her eyes, down the sides of her face, and into her hair as the memory came back in full force. Clark, shot and bleeding on the filthy floor of a decrepit warehouse, slowly dying, in need of her help.

He was dead now. Just like her. She wondered if the stories she'd heard were true, and, if so, would she have a chance to see him again? That wouldn't be so bad, she supposed. If the stories were true, at least she'd have a friendly face to…

Wait a minute; the stories weren't true at all, she realized. Wasn't everything sort of supposed to fall away upon death, once she shuffled off the mortal coil? Wasn't her main complaint post-demise supposed to be keeping her lute in tune or adjusting her halo or something equally as inane? Her death wasn't like that at all. Actually, come to think of it, her death sucked.

It seriously sucked, in fact! Her shoulder was throbbing enough to shake the fillings in her teeth loose _(if you still had fillings)_, her head ached like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the side of her skull _(if you still had a skull), _she felt like there was a heavy weight on her chest, causing her ribcage to compress her lungs _(if you still had…oh, you get the point)._

Death sucked. She had been seriously mislead, and she demanded to talk to someone in charge!

Maybe one of these irritating voices would help he…wait a minute; where had these irritating voices come from? She moaned her displeasure _(Now, Lois, we've been over this already. Tongue, teeth, throat, lungs…remember?)_ as they intruded in on her private – if generally irritating – thoughts. She had to have light and pain; was it too much to hope for a little silence?

Apparently it was, as the voices only got louder and more insistent. In fact, they seemed to be talking to her, demanding something of her. They simply would not shut up! "…oming to…" she thought she heard, which made no sense at all. Though she suspected paying attention would only encourage them, she was annoyed enough to give it a shot. "…tor, I think you sho…"

Well, at least a couple of those sounded like words, which was an improvement. Now, however, as she'd suspected, the voices were encouraged by her attention and grew – if possible – even more irritating in their demands. If she wasn't mistaken, one even had the audacity to ask her questions, which was simply rude, if you asked her. Couldn't a corpse get a little peace and quiet nowadays? And what was it asking her, anyway?

_Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?_

Okay, the next time she died _(Oh, you are a funny one, Lo.)_, she was going to ask for the upgrade without the ongoing commentary. It was enough to drive her mad.

"…our name?" The Voice managed to work its way into her brain, past her irritating internal monologue, and she moaned. It was much louder now; was there some sort of volume control on it? "Do you know where you are?"

Her eyes fluttering open, she tried to see past that damn light and finally caught sight of a friendly pair of green eyes, which were nice enough, she supposed, but they weren't the blue ones she'd been hoping for. "Where…is he? Is…he here?" she managed to croak, or at least a reasonable approximation of those words.

"I'm sorry; who are you talking about? Is who here?" the mouth that went the face containing the friendly blue eyes asked. She supposed he was some sort of doctor, since he was wearing a white coat, but she didn't understand what he was doing there. She was dead; she didn't need a doctor any longer.

"My…friend. Was…with me," she finally answered, though her throat burned, making it difficult to utter any noise at all.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but you showed up at the hospital alone a couple of hours ago. One of the nurses found you on a gurney in the hallway, but it's still a bit of a mystery how you got there. Do you have any recollection of what happened to you or how you got to the hospital?"

This fake doctor, Lois suddenly decided, was a cruel figment of her imagination, which had clearly decided to pretend for the moment that she was still alive. She couldn't imagine why. "No…I…I'm dead," she finally whispered, her voice sounding oddly pleading as she stared into those friendly green eyes.

The imaginary doctor shook his head. "No, Miss, I'm happy to say you're not dead at all. You're a little banged up, but you're going to be fine. You're at Metropolis General, and we're going to take good care of you. Do you remember if you were in some kind of accident?"

Lois ignored him and squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of pain that had nothing to do with her injuries. Hard as it was to believe, she had to accept that she wasn't dead, after all. She'd somehow survived the explosion, and, even more inexplicably, she'd somehow made it to the hospital for treatment. None of that mattered.

What mattered was that Clark had needed her, and she'd left him behind. He wouldn't have even been there if it weren't for her, but she'd dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night, for no other reason than because she wanted his company. As punishment for being her friend, he'd died on the floor of that dingy warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and he'd been alone.

She couldn't get to him when he was suffering, and now…she hadn't even joined him in death. Clark was her best friend, and when he'd needed her the most, she'd abandoned him.

How was she ever going to forgive herself for that?


	3. Chapter 3: A Newfound Resolve

**Chapter 3: A Newfound Resolve**

Though the doctors kept trying to get answers out of Lois, she refused to give them any. In fact, once she found out she honestly wasn't dead, she refused to speak at all. For once, she decided that discretion was the better part of valor as she tried to piece everything together in her mind.

Once they'd come to understand that their questions would only be met by stoic silence, the doctors left her alone, at least for a while. She heard a couple of them talking outside her door, and she knew they believed she'd been the victim of some kind of accident, maybe even some kind of attack. Not rape, they concluded from her injuries, but they thought perhaps she was in shock. She figured she'd let them believe anything they wanted to, as long as they left her alone.

Lois leaned forward and tried to readjust the position of the pillows propping her up, but the sudden movement brought on a wave of nausea that forced her to close her eyes and take a few steady breaths before sitting back again. And she hated closing her eyes. Ever since she regained consciousness, she found that every time she closed her eyes for any length of time, she was haunted by the thought of Clark as she'd last seen him. His face contorted in rage and pain as he lifting a trembling hand up to her. Was it a plea for help, or was it in condemnation that he reached out to her? She didn't know, would never know, and with a force of will, she shoved the memory from her mind and opened her eyes once more.

Twitchy and Scar. She focused on the two of them, because they were all she had to go on. Though the memory of the conversation they'd had when she was coming to was fuzzy, she vaguely recalled something about cleaning up someone else's mess. Yes, and something about…a boss? So they were working for somebody, which made sense, because Lois honestly couldn't picture them being the criminal masterminds behind a mixed-up lunch order, let alone industrial sabotage.

And Lois had absolutely no doubt that they were tied in with whatever was going on at LuthorCorp. It was the only thing that made sense. Besides, in the glimpse she'd gotten of Scar, she had the vague impression that he'd been dressed in a pretty nice suit. So he wasn't a junkie looking for a fix or something to fence to get drug money, wandering into the wrong place at the wrong time. No, he'd been sent there to eliminate Peter Williams (probably to stop him from divulging his promised "proof"), and he'd done what he'd been sent to do.

So whoever sent the goons was most likely behind the sabotage at LuthorCorp, and that left Lois with very few clues to go on. She muttered a curse, wishing she'd had a little more time to look around the warehouse before it had exploded, but there was nothing to be done about it now. With a frown, she tried to look at the situation from a different angle.

The only person she knew of who was tied to everything that had happened so far was Lex Luthor himself. It was his family's corporation that was being targeted, his reputation that was being destroyed piece by piece, and even the warehouse that had exploded that morning had been bought under a dummy corporation owned by his company.

Of course, Lionel Luthor was as tied into LuthorCorp as much as Lex (more so, even), but the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that there was something personal about the attacks. Every single one of the projects that had gone belly-up had been under the personal purview of Lex Luthor. It wasn't just LuthorCorp in general that was being publicly humiliated, discredited, and destroyed; the heir apparent of the corporation stood front and center before the firing squad.

So, as much as Lois had come to personally enjoy ascribing to the "Lex Luthor is the root of all evil" theory in the year since Wes's murder, it made no sense in this instance. Lex had nothing to gain from everything that was happening to his father's company and everything to lose.

But if Lex wasn't behind it all, who could it be? Lionel Luthor himself? Lois considered the possibility but was forced to reject it, as well. Again, he stood nothing to gain from obliterating his own company. And while Lois was well aware of the mind games he loved to play on his only progeny – with the intention of making Lex "stronger" – he also made it very clear that he put nothing before the sanctity of his family line. He might exile Lex to the middle of nowhere to teach him how to be a businessman, he might interfere with Lex's marriage with the presumed intent of showing him the danger inherent in giving in to the weakness of love, but he would never do anything that would actually destroy his son's career. Lionel Luthor would never jeopardize his own immortality in such a fashion – and it was obvious that a chance at a type of immortality was exactly what the patriarch of the Luthor clan had long considered both his son and his corporation to be.

Okay, so if it wasn't Lex and it wasn't Lionel, who could be behind the sabotage? Somebody who wanted to bring the Luthors down, obviously, but Lois didn't have time to personally investigate everyone within the Western Hemisphere (and a good portion of the Eastern, as well). She had to narrow the field, somehow.

Well, as she'd already concluded, whoever was behind the attacks wasn't as interested in the Luthors plural as they were in Lex in particular. And that meant there had to be a personal grudge somewhere underneath it all. Of course, that didn't do much to narrow the field of potential saboteurs; plenty of people hated Lex Luthor, after all. Still, it at least gave her something to go on. If she was going to find out the identity of the saboteur at LuthorCorp, she was going to have to go to Lex for some answers.

After spending the better part of the last year trying to bring Lex down, she was going to have to go to him for help – and, knowing Lex, there was likely going to be a price to be paid for dealing with the devil. Suddenly weary, Lois let her head sag back against the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut, taking a moment to brace herself for what was likely to come. Was she really strong enough to follow through with all this?

"Lois," the Clark in her memory murmured as he reached out to her with trembling fingertips, his face contorted in agony and rage. She wanted to reach back, but with all the blood that was on her hands, she knew he would only slip through her fingers, even if she did manage to touch him. Clark was dead; she had to come to terms with that, somehow. She had to accept that nothing, not even finding the person responsible for the murder, would bring her best friend back.

Still, he deserved more than the stupid, pointless death he'd been granted. He deserved justice. It didn't matter if she found it by asking her cousin Chloe for an assist or groveling to Lex on the chance it would get him to throw a scrap of information her way, she was going to do it. Whatever it took, she was prepared to do it. In all the years they'd known each other, all the times he'd been there for her, she'd come to care about Clark Kent more than just about anyone else on the planet, but she'd failed him when he'd needed her the most. She wasn't going to fail him again.

Her eyes fluttering open, Lois took a deep breath and ignored the hot tears that coursed down her cheeks, her strength renewed by her newfound resolve. She didn't give a damn about the strange string of events at LuthorCorp anymore, but she _did_ care to find out who was pulling the puppets' strings, who had given the order to "clean up the mess" and, in doing so, had loaded the bullet that had killed Clark Kent. She was going to find out; she was going to hunt him down, and when she did, she was going to make sure he was brought to justice. One way or another.


	4. Chapter 4: The Stain of Guilt

**Chapter 4: The Stain of Guilt**

When the doctors, accompanied by two seemingly concerned policemen, came back with all their myriad questions, Lois was ready for them. Yes, she knew her name, and she knew where she was. No, she had no idea how she'd gotten to the hospital; she must have stumbled there somehow, or some Good Samaritan must have found her and realized she needed medical assistance. No, she didn't know who would have done such a thing; did it matter? What was that last question? Oh, what had caused the injuries in the first place…?

Lois lied. Of course, she knew she should probably tell the truth, but the more she'd thought the situation over, the more she realized that the truth could be dangerous. Whoever it was that was trying to bring down Lex Luthor was clearly powerful, and powerful people that thought it was a good idea to take on Titans like the Luthors didn't hesitate to eliminate Nobodies like Lois Lane.

It wasn't, of course, that she minded the prospect of being somebody's target, even one faced with impossible odds. She did mind the thought that someone might manage to eliminate her before she could bring Clark's killer to justice. So, until she at least found out who was behind the events of that morning, she was going to keep all pertinent facts to herself and tread very, very lightly – which, for the person she was, was going to be no small effort.

So instead of the truth, Lois presented the police with a carefully crafted lie that was as close to the truth as possible without actually being a narrative of what had happened. According to her story, she'd been suffering a bout of insomnia as she tended to do and had decided to go for a walk to clear her head. Yes, of course she knew it was dangerous to go walking through that particular part of town alone after dark, but she was a General's daughter, after all, and she thought she could take care of herself. Of course, she'd learned her lesson, and she'd never, ever do such a stupid thing again. That comment stretched the truth to an extent that was almost beyond even her capabilities, and she was surprised she they didn't call her on it immediately. They obviously didn't know who they were dealing with, which was just as well.

Some men had come out of nowhere and attacked her, she said, and she'd only just managed to get away. She thought there were two of them, but she supposed there could have been more. She was pretty sure she scratched one of them in the face and had possibly broken his nose, but she didn't remember much about the fight, actually; she had been hit pretty hard on the head, after all. No, she had no idea where the blood on her shirt or her hands had come from, Officers, but she was certain she'd been too incapacitated to have hurt anyone seriously enough to have caused it.

This last part of her tale was the hardest for her to sell, but there was no way she was going to bring Clark's name into any of this. She didn't know how she was going to explain his disappearance to the rest of the world, but she'd be damned if there was so much as the possibility of her putting Mrs. Kent's life in danger – and who knew what this mysterious villain would do to protect his secrets? She was also not about to allow some stranger – no matter what his qualifications or profession – break the news about Clark's death. "Senator Kent, we regret to inform you…" No. It was Lois's fault he'd been there; the consequences of her actions were her responsibility as well.

It probably didn't take very long in actuality, but it seemed like days before all the questions were answered to an official level of satisfaction, all the evidence gathered, and Lois was left alone again. She was at least granted the cold comfort of being told her injuries weren't severe enough to warrant further observation and so she'd be allowed to go home the next day, but she didn't really care. In her newly-reclaimed solitude, she embraced the privacy, the chance to plan. She hated the silence that left her alone with nothing but her cruel thoughts and painful memories for company.

The day was wearing on, the bustle at the hospital gently fading away, and though she was tired, Lois refused to sleep. She didn't want to waste the time that could be better spent plotting her next step, and she didn't dare close her eyes for fear of what the darkness would bring. Still, before she did anything else, there was one thing she had to do, one task she couldn't ignore, and though she dreaded what lay before her, it was a situation of her own doing.

Glancing in trepidation at the phone, it took Lois a few minutes before she got up her nerve enough to pick up the handset and dial the number she knew by heart. As she listened to the ringing and waited for someone to pick up on the other end, a part of her prayed that it wouldn't happen. Maybe the ringing would go on indefinitely, prolonging the purgatory of her current existence, which had to be at least a minor improvement on the hell to which she was about to subject herself.

No such luck; the line was answered after only three rings by a familiar voice. "Hello?"

Lois had to swallow a couple of times before she regained the ability to speak. "Hi, Mrs. Kent." The woman on the other end of the line may be "Senator Kent" to the rest of the world, but she would always be "Mrs. Kent" to Lois. "It's…it's me. Lois." Oh, god, how was she supposed to continue? What was she supposed to say? _"I regret to inform you…"_

"Lois!" Martha cried on what Lois could swear was a gasp, except that there was no reason for her to be so surprised to have gotten a call from her former Chief of Staff. "Honey, are you okay?"

Apparently, she sounded as bad as she felt, if Martha could pick up on it from hundreds of miles away. Struck by the almost irresistible urge to cry, Lois had to take a few deep breaths before she could continue. She didn't have the right to ask for comfort from this woman, not after everything she'd done – and everything she was planning to do. Steeling herself, she said, more harshly than she'd intended. "I-I'm fine, Mrs. Kent. Well, actually, I…I'm in the hospital. I was…there was an accident. I'm okay…I mean, I wasn't badly hurt or anything, but that's not actually why I'm calling. I…I need to see you. There's s-something I need to t-tell you, but I c-can't do it over the ph-phone."

When had those traitorous tears returned? Hadn't she just decided she didn't have the right to burden this woman, of all people, with her sorrow? And yet there she was, stealing a consolation she didn't deserve. What was she expecting from Martha? As kind hearted as Mrs. Kent was, was Lois honestly expecting to be reassured that it was all right that it was her stupidity that had gotten Clark killed? Was she honestly expecting to be forgiven?

Lois gritted her teeth against the thought, but it acted like a sudden splash of cold water on her tears. Her eyes suddenly dry once more, she tucked her sorrow over Clark's death away, to be mourned over later. For now, there was no time to weep, and her grief didn't matter anyway; it certainly didn't do a damn bit of good. The only thing that mattered was her guilt and the white hot anger that burned her up from within. She'd never understood before how completely the need for revenge could drive a person on, not even after witnessing the fate of her first love, Wes, and vowing to take down the man responsible. Now she understood how such hatred could consume the very soul; it was like her world had narrowed to pinpoint focus that separated the entirety of her being into two distinct categories: that which would bring her closer to the murderers, and the irrelevant rest of existence.

But now wasn't the time to ponder her revenge, tempting though the thought was. Right now, she had to find a way to break the news to Martha that her only son was never going to come home again. Before she could formulate the words, however, Martha said, "Lois, I'm actually on my way to Metropolis now. I-I had a meeting, but it's been cancelled. I should be there within an hour, okay? I'll be there soon, sweetheart."

Lois didn't know if she should dread the inevitable or be glad to get it over with so soon. It wasn't like it would be made any easier with a delay, but at least she didn't have to impart the news that would so shatter Mrs. Kent's world over the phone. "O-okay," she replied, thrown by the suddenness of Martha's imminent arrival. "I'm in room two thirteen when you get here. I…I guess I'll see you then."

She felt a little stupid and extremely puzzled as she hung up the phone. Though she didn't know exactly what she'd been expecting, it somehow hadn't been that. It wasn't just the discovery that she'd be breaking the bad news a lot sooner than she'd anticipated; there was just something…odd…about Martha's voice on the other end of the line. As if she was not only surprised to hear from her former Chief of Staff, she somehow knew that Lois had been injured and was, in fact, on the way to Metropolis for no other reason than to make sure she was okay. If Lois didn't know any better, in fact, she'd say that Martha actually already anticipated the story she was about to hear – which was, of course, ridiculous, but how else to explain the oddly stoic manner in which she'd received Lois's pronouncement?

It just didn't make any sense, but after a moment's thought, Lois rejected her foolish thoughts as nothing more than wishful thinking. Of course she wanted to believe that Martha already knew the bad news; it would relieve Lois of any need to relay it. No, it was far more likely that Martha's statements could be taken at face value – she had coincidentally been en route to Metropolis for a meeting that had since been cancelled and was, thus, able to visit Lois in the hospital instead.

Laying her head back on her pillow, Lois turned her head to gaze with sightless eyes out the window, sighed, and swallowed heavily against the icy dread she felt in the pit of her stomach. She tried not to think about what lay ahead of her in the next hour. She didn't want to think about the grief she was about to bring the only mother she'd ever really known, and though she knew she should brace herself against the distinct possibility that her narrative would be met with well-deserved condemnation – even hatred – the very idea hurt too much to entertain, so it was hardly likely that she would ever be able to adequately prepare for the reality.

In an unconscious gesture, she rubbed her hands together as if to remove an invisible stain from her skin. All traces of Clark's blood had long been removed from her person, but she still felt the taint of it. Maybe once she caught the mastermind behind the murder, she'd finally be able to wash the imagined evidence of his death and her guilt from her flesh.

For now, there was nothing she could do but sit back and wait. Wait for Martha to arrive, so Lois could break the heart of the woman she held most dear. Wait for her wounds to heal enough that she could enact the plan that was still formulating in her mind. Wait for the absolution that she prayed would come after she'd brought Clark's killer to justice.  



	5. Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking

**Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking**

As soon as his mom hung up the phone, Clark turned to her anxiously. "That was Lois? How is she? Is she going to be okay?" His questions were coming at her too fast for her to answer, he knew, but he couldn't seem to slow down. As it was, he was practically vibrating with the urgent desire to race to the hospital at that very moment to see for himself that she was okay.

The only thing stopping him, in fact, was the fact that he knew she thought he was critically injured, if not dead, and he hadn't quite figured out how he was going to break the news to her that he was neither. From the moment he'd left Lois at the hospital, he'd been trying to think of a way to describe to her how, contrary to what she'd seen with her own eyes, he was unharmed by his encounter with a bullet. It was going to take a certain amount of finesse to explain how he could have shrugged off a gunshot wound to the chest, he knew, and unfortunately, not even his most inventive of lies seemed likely to get him out of this one.

Unfortunately, he had to think of something; it wasn't like she was likely to forget that the last time she'd seen him, he'd been bleeding to death in front of her eyes. It wasn't going to be easy, lying to her – both because he hated to lie to the woman who had come to mean a lot to him over the past couple of years and also because she had developed the remarkable ability to somehow tell when he wasn't telling her the complete truth.

They had grown so close, in fact, that he had recently been feeling an increasing desire to tell Lois about his origin and abilities. And though that prospect had a certain appeal, he had not yet resolved to actually confess his secret. His reluctance didn't stem from a lack of trust in her, nor did it stem from any concern on his part about how accepting she would be of the news.

He hadn't told Lois the truth about himself for the simple reason that he knew that it was likely that it would somehow change things between them. Knowing the truth _always_ changed things. Of course, that wasn't necessarily bad; his relationship with Chloe had been strengthened in many respects by her discovery of his secret. At the same time, however, there were differences that were not necessarily for the better, moments when he thought her perception of him as a man had become lost amidst her admiration for his abilities. It was no longer really enough for him to just be Clark Kent, her friend and the metaphorical boy next door; she couldn't help but see him as the last son of Krypton and the man who could break through a steel door without a second thought.

Was it a guarantee that Lois would fall prey to the same pratfalls, should he discover the truth? No, of course not. But Clark couldn't stand the thought that, like Chloe, she would sometimes look at him and not see the person he was as much as what he could do. And even if that didn't happen, it was an undeniable fact that things would be different. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse, but their relationship still wouldn't be the same.

And Clark didn't want things to change between him and Lois. Even knowing that, as in his relationship with Chloe, some positive developments could result from her discovery of his secret, he still hesitated to take that step. He simply didn't want things to be different. He was scared, and he was selfish. He liked the direction his relationship with Lois had begun to take, and he just didn't want to risk…whatever it was that was growing between them.

Of course, the choice might have just been taken out of his hands. He didn't have the first clue how to explain away his injuries, and when he thought about the expression on her face as she'd looked down on him in that warehouse… He just couldn't bear to think that he had even unintentionally caused her such pain.

Clark had to grit his teeth against the myriad emotions that flooded him anew when he remembered the attack against Lois and how he'd been powerless against it. It was almost terrifying, the rage that had consumed him when he'd seen the blows the attackers had landed against her unresisting flesh; they hadn't stopped beating her right away when she'd lost consciousness, and they'd laughed at him when he'd tried desperately but ultimately ineffectually to stop them.

With a deep breath, he did his best to release the anger and fear that had taking over him once more at the mere memory and tried to quell the trembling in his hands, slowly loosening the fists they'd formed at his sides. He had to be patient; they were in the private jet Lionel had loaned his mother for the occasion, and they were almost to Metropolis now.

His mom was gazing at him sympathetically, and she seemed to be waiting for him to gain control of himself before she answered his questions. "She's…she says she wasn't badly hurt, Clark, but, honey, she sounds terrible. I think she thinks…" She didn't need to say anything more; Clark understood. Lois thought he was dead.

"I have to tell her the truth, Mom. I can't just let her think…I can't do this to her. I can't lose her like this." As he spoke, he turned his face away from her for a moment so she wouldn't read the emotions playing across his features – maybe emotions he hadn't even admitted to himself that he felt. But, then again, Lois wasn't just another friend; she was his _best_ friend, so perhaps he could be forgiven for the pain he felt when he thought about the physical and emotional torture she'd gone through.

When he felt his mother's comforting hand on his, he turned to meet her eyes once more and saw that his mild evasion had won him nothing; she had seen what he'd intended to hide with his feeble effort. "I know, Clark. But we're almost there, and we'll figure something out. I don't know what to tell Lois, but…we'll come up with something."

"Maybe I should…maybe I should tell her the truth about me," he offered a little tentatively, unsure of how his mother would take the suggestion. Of course, he knew how much she had come to think of Lois as something of a daughter, but that didn't negate her primary tendency to be somewhat overprotective of her adopted son's secrets.

To his surprise, however, she replied calmly, "Maybe you should." Then she seemed to pick up on his shock at her statement, as she explained, "I know your father and I taught you to be careful about telling other people about your abilities, honey, and maybe we had a tendency to be a little overcautious at times. But we never meant to make you think that you could never tell anyone about the things you could do. We just wanted you to be…careful about who you trusted with that kind of secret. We wanted you to wait until you found someone special."

With a soft smile, she squeezed the hand she still held. "If Lois means that much to you, sweetheart, then maybe you should tell her."

Clark felt himself flush and he pulled away from his mom, looking at her in alarm. He could tell that she had somehow gotten the wrong idea about his relationship with Lois, and he rushed to dispel any misconceptions she might have formed. "No! I mean, it's not like that, Mom. I'm not…I mean, Lois and I aren't…"

"Senator Kent," the voice over the loudspeaker interrupted Clark's pathetic denial. "I wanted to let you know that we're about to make our descent, and we should be on the ground in about ten minutes."

"Thank you, Captain," she replied via the intercom, effectively shattering the moment. Clark didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he hadn't managed to convince his mother that there was nothing more between him and Lois than friendship, but he didn't really have a chance to mull over the issue. "Chloe's supposed to meet us at the airstrip, right?" she was asking him, and the subject of what his feelings for Lois might or might not be was closed.

"Oh, uh…yeah," he replied, mentally switching gears. Now wasn't the time to think about anything other than the health and safety of the woman lying in a hospital bed, at any rate. "At least, that's what she said a little bit ago when I had her on the phone."

His mother nodded, and then silence filled the cabin as its occupants turned to their own private ruminations. As soon as the plane's wheels hit the tarmac, however, Clark's entire body itched with the need to race out the door and across town to the hospital; it was torture for him to have to wait until he was allowed to disembark.

"Clark! Mrs. Kent!" he heard Chloe call as she jogged towards them, and he and his mother waited until she'd reached them to greet her warmly in return. After hugs had been exchanged all around, however, Chloe pulled away with a worried frown on her face. "I raced all the way here, Clark, but you just sounded so…strange on the phone. What's up?"

Nodding towards the vehicle that was awaiting them, Martha suggested, "Maybe we should explain on the way," and Clark waited until they'd all piled into the car to begin his tale.

To her credit, Chloe listened to his story in silence, though her look of worry only grew with each passing minute. Finally, however, he concluded, "So Mom and I are on our way to the hospital to check on her, except, of course, I can't really go see her since she thinks I'm…"

"No, no, of course not," Chloe replied absently, but she was clearly preoccupied with other matters. "But she is going to be okay, right? I mean, she said so, didn't she? Did she say what her injuries were or anything the doctors said about…"

"At the moment, we don't know anything other than what she told us," Martha interjected, stemming the tide of questions they were as of yet unable to answer. "But we're almost to the hospital now."

Clark grabbed Chloe's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze when he saw the same anxiousness that he found almost overpowering reflected in every line of her body. "She'll be fine, Chlo. You know how Lois is." Even as he spoke, he knew his words were falling on deaf ears – but, then again, it wasn't exactly like he would have taken someone else's word for it, either. "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to tell you about all of this sooner."

Though she'd been staring out the window at the passing scenery with worried eyes, Chloe turned to face him at these words. "No, I understand. You've been dealing with a lot. But what I don't get is…and don't take this the wrong way…but how _did_ you survive the…everything?"

He frowned and looked away, the experience too fresh and painful for him to want to think about again. Still, it was a valid question, so, trying to block out the memory of Lois's anxious cries and the sound of fists pummeling unresisting flesh, he sighed heavily and explained, "I don't know, really, if you want to know the truth. When I saw Lois…I saw what they were doing to her, and I couldn't stand it. But I was too weak at that point to stop them, and when I tried, they…they laughed and only hit her harder."

Momentarily reliving the stark agony of helplessly watching as Lois was beaten, Clark felt his throat tighten and had to wait until he'd regained control before he could continue. "I remember trying to crawl away, because I knew if I could just get out of the range of the Kryptonite, I'd be okay and I could stop them. But it just…I couldn't breathe; I was so weak by that point. There wasn't much I could do; I certainly couldn't have crawled very far. If you want to know the truth, I honestly don't know why I'm not dead right now. Maybe I just got lucky and somehow I got far enough away from the Kryptonite that my body was able to heal itself. I just don't know.

"I must have lost consciousness for a few minutes, though, because when I woke up, my gunshot wound was gone and I heard the two guys arguing outside. And then everything happened so fast. I heard one of the guys yell something at the other, the warehouse exploded, and I somehow just managed to make it outside in time to see…" His voice trailed off. No, he just couldn't find the words to explain how he'd felt, watching Lois get carelessly flung aside. In that moment, he'd been scared she was dead; it wasn't until he had her in his arms that he knew otherwise, and then he could have sobbed with relief. But he couldn't possibly explain all that to his companions, so instead he concluded his story, saying, "Anyway, I carried her to the hospital, but I couldn't stay with her. I needed to see if I could track down those guys from the warehouse, and I wanted to tell my mom about what had happened, before she found out from somebody else."

His story ended, Clark turned to look out the window of the limo as they drove through town, brooding over his earlier actions. He had been such an idiot at the warehouse; he should never have allowed Lois to go unprotected into that building. He should have insisted they turn around and leave the second he realized there was Kryptonite in the area. He should never have left her at the hospital by herself; he should have stuck around to make sure she was okay.

Chloe bit her lip and this time it was her turn to offer reassurance. "At least you were there, Clark. If you hadn't been…Lois might not be alive right now."

It was a cold comfort and not much of a consolation, but he knew it wasn't Chloe's fault that he had failed. "I should never have let her get hurt like that, Chloe. I should have protected her." It was a simple statement of fact, his voice devoid of self-pity and recrimination.

She saw through him anyway, regardless of how he'd tried to hide his feelings. "Lois isn't exactly the type to sit back and let herself be rescued, Clark. I know you wish you'd done things differently, but you know how she is. Do you honestly think you could have gotten her to do anything she didn't want to do?" With a tentative smile, she murmured softly, "You saved her life, Clark, and she's going to be fine. You can't lose sight of that, or the fact that things could have gone down a lot differently if it weren't for you. We'll find a way to deal with everything else, okay?"

They had arrived at the hospital, so there wasn't really time to ague the point any longer, even if Clark had thought there was actually a chance he might get Chloe to see things from his point of view. Of course he was glad that Lois had not only survived but was supposedly going to fully recover. Of course he as happy that he'd managed to get to her in time because he knew what the alternative could have been. However, none of that diminished the fact that Clark should never have let the situation go that far or get that out of hand. He had gone into that warehouse with every intention of doing whatever it took to keep Lois safe, but then, when she'd needed him, he'd been absolutely of no use to her. And now, because of the secrets he'd been too much of a coward to divulge, he might lose her completely.

As he stepped out of the limo, Clark gritted his teeth and gave his head a small but firm shake. No, he wasn't going to think like that. He wasn't going to even entertain such a possibility. Now wasn't the time to think of what could have been; he had to see for himself that Lois really was going to be okay. He had to think of a way to tell her the truth about everything, because he couldn't bear to think of the alternative. And then, because she was the best friend he'd ever had and he cared about her too much to subject her to such torture again, he was going to spend the rest of his life, if that's what it took, doing everything in his power to make damn sure she was never hurt like that again.


	6. Chapter 6: A Clear and Present Danger

**Chapter 6: A Clear and Present Danger**

They were on their way into the hospital when a thought occurred to Chloe and she grabbed Clark's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Wait, Clark," she said as she pulled him aside. "Before you go in there, there's something you really need to take care of first." She didn't expect him to like what she was about to say – and the fact that it was also unfortunately going to delay his opportunity to check on Lois – of course, but she was still taken aback by the anger in his eyes when he turned on her. 

Before he could argue, however, she lifted her hand in a silent request that he give her a chance to speak her mind and said apologetically, "I'm sorry. I know you want to see Lois, but I just thought of something. When Lois was brought in and they saw all the blood on her, there's no way they didn't think some sort of crime had been committed, and I guarantee you that they're going to investigate. And that means examining whatever evidence they could find." Though she saw the realization of what she was getting at start to dawn upon Clark, she concluded, just to make certain she was being perfectly clear, "Clark, that means looking very closely at the blood that I'm sure from your story was all over Lois, and you and I both know we can't afford for the police to do that."

That he understood what she was getting at was clear, but so was his reluctance to leave Lois. Chloe sympathized, of course, but she also knew that, as bad as things were, they could definitely get worse…and, if Clark didn't do something soon, they would indeed do so. "Whatever danger I might soon be in is going to have to wait, Chloe because there's nothing more important to me right now than making sure Lois is okay," he declared forcefully, turning from her and stalking towards the hospital's front doors once more.

She had to jog to catch up to him, and once she had, it was no easy feat to get him to stop and listen to her again. "Clark, she's not going to be okay for long, if you don't get your blood from the police before they have a chance to look more closely at it! You don't think that they'd want some answers, and the _only_ person they know about who might be able to give them any is Lois. Do you really want to put her through that? Not to mention that, if the police _do_ realize that they've got some…unusual evidence…on their hands, I doubt it'll take long before Lex and his numerous resources stumble on to the very same thing. How safe do you think Lois is going to be then?"

A muscle jumped in Clark's jaw, but he stopped trying to bulldoze over her to get to Lois's room, so Chloe had reason to suspect she was finally gotten through to him. She felt terrible for having to delay the anticipated reunion; she knew he couldn't bear the thought that one of his best friends believed him dead, and she also had no doubt that every moment he was unable to be with Lois was slowly killing him. But as much as Chloe understood and shared his desire to rush to her injured cousin's side, she'd long ago come to realize that the hardest part about being Clark's secret keeper wasn't actually in protecting the man himself. It was recognizing that sometimes sacrifices had to be made – not only by him but also by everyone who knew the truth about him – in order to protect the people he loved the most. 

Chloe's heart ached at the thought of the agony both Lois and Clark were no doubt going through at the moment. But as much as she wanted Clark to do exactly as he wanted – as much as she wanted him to waste no time in telling Lois that he was, in fact, unharmed, it was her heavy responsibility to keep track of the big picture. And that meant making sure the woman she loved like a sister was safe, not only today, but tomorrow as well.

Softening her tone, she took a deep breath to steady her voice as she said, "I know you're worried about her safety, Clark. So am I."

Though he still looked mutinous at the thought of what Chloe was asking him to do, he breathed a resigned sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Okay…I'll go do what I can to get that evidence before they have a chance to look at it, but, Chloe…I need you to make sure that Lois is okay for me. I don't know who's behind all this, but if anyone thinks that she knows something…something that could put them in danger…" His voice trailed off, the consequences of that scenario clearly too much for him to articulate, but Chloe didn't need him to elaborate anyway. She had a pretty good idea of what exactly someone might to do to Lois if they thought she needed to be silenced, and there were no doubt plenty of other possibilities that were too horrific to even imagine.

"I'm on it, Clark. I'm not going to let anyone hurt her; I promise you." Her words of reassurance were met with a tight smile, and then Clark was gone. Glancing down the hallway, Chloe considered stopping by Lois's room – where Martha no doubt was already – to check on her cousin, but she discarded the idea with about as much reluctance as Clark had. As she'd told him, as hard as it was to accept, there were more important things to do right now. Clark had made his sacrifice already; she was about to make one of her own.

If Clark's concern was valid, Lois could be in a lot more danger right now than anyone realized. And that meant that it was time for Chloe to do a little investigating.

* * *

When the door to her hospital room opened and closed quietly, Lois was staring with sightless eyes out the window, remembering the last time she'd found herself in such a state.

* * *

_"Hey, Smallville," she'd greeted her unexpected visitor with a slight smile as he quietly let himself into her hospital room._

_Considering they could hardly have been considered close at that point, Clark's look of concern as he'd gazed at her that day was oddly touching. "Hey, how you feeling?" he'd asked as he sat by her side with every appearance of having been genuinely worried about her._

_She didn't know when it had happened, but that was the moment she realized that something in their relationship had changed subtly. She remembered how she'd been discomfited by the shift in their usual interaction and had scrambled to regain the status quo. In an effort to both to deflect and to relieve some of his anxiety – an unusual reaction for her at the time – she'd responded lightly, "Bad enough to know I'm still alive…"_

Caught up in the memory, she slowly turned her head to look at her visitor, wanting so much to be greeted by a familiar pair of blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile. She knew it was impossible, of course, but she couldn't deny the part of herself that was convinced that, if she only wished for it hard enough, the very force of her will could somehow bring Clark back from the dead. Back to her. 

But this time it wasn't Clark who was gazing at her in such concern; it was his mother. And while Lois tried to pull her mind back to the present, focus on the task that lay ahead of her, the memory of the past wasn't quite ready to let her go.

_"I think I died and went to heaven," she'd told Clark on that day, not long ago, unable to come up with another explanation for her surreal experience. She'd thought she was going to die as her tortured lungs struggled to draw breath and the plane he was flying in went down. And then when she'd felt that warm glow envelop her body and she somehow opened her eyes wide enough to see that palace of ice in which she found herself…she'd been convinced that she had._

"Oh, Martha, I'm s-so so-sorry," he sobbed as the iron-grip she had on her composure crumbled. She'd meant to keep her pain to herself. If the enormity of Clark's death was likely to affect anyone more than the woman who had watched it happen, it was Martha, and that was why Lois had promised herself that she wouldn't ask Mrs. Kent to share her grief. But now, gazing at the woman who meant so much to her, she could no more suppress the sobs that welled up in her throat than she could fly. 

Curling her body in on itself, Lois turned away and wept, covering her face with her hands as if to hide her shame from the world. She couldn't explain. She didn't even know how to begin. How could she possibly utter the two words guaranteed to shatter Mrs. Kent's world? _Clark's dead._ It felt as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them incontrovertible fact, and Clark would be lost to her forever. And she wasn't ready to let go of him yet.

_"Then I'm glad you're back." Clark had sounded so sincere, and then he'd reached out and grabbed her hand, and she'd…_

She felt arms go around her and hold her tight, offering her comfort as they rocked her gently. She heard Mrs. Kent murmur her name, but it was too late. Every feeling she'd denied herself in the last few hours, everything she wouldn't allow herself to face, welled up inside of her and was released in a desperate howl that was ripped out of her chest like a living thing that left her body weak and her throat raw in its wake. She wasn't even aware of what she was screaming; her words were incomprehensible even to her, but the words didn't matter. The agony was simply too much for her to contain; it would be denied no longer. 

"Martha, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…," she found herself mumbling like a mantra into the other woman's shoulder a few minutes later as, with a white-knuckled grip, she clutched the arms that held her.

But the moment couldn't last forever, any more than Lois's brief abandon into mindless oblivion could. With a shaky breath, she pulled away from Mrs. Kent and looked up at her with wet eyes. "There's…there's something I have to tell you."

Then, with a deep breath, she began her story. "This morning, I got a phone call…" It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, recounting her horrible tale for the woman who had returned to the seat beside the bed, but while Lois's voice trembled at some points and failed her completely at others, she didn't stop talking until her story was finished.

"I…I tried to get back to him, Mrs. Kent, but I…I just couldn't." She spoke in barely above a whisper, unable to meet her companion's eyes. She'd looked away at some point, unable to bear the thought of finishing her tale in what she was certain would be the face of Martha's growing well-deserved condemnation, and now she couldn't quite muster the energy to look back. "The warehouse exploded and Clark…he…he was…he was inside." She could barely get these last words out as her voice broke and her eyes burned with tears she was too exhausted to shed. She'd intended to find some way to tell Martha the truth about her son's fate more directly, but she still couldn't say the words that would let Clark go. She wondered if she'd ever be able to do so.

To her surprise, in the silence that fell between them after her story ended, she didn't hear a sound. Martha wasn't screaming invectives at her, and she wasn't walking out the door and for what promised to be the last time, either. In fact, she didn't even sound like she was sobbing, which took Lois by such surprise that she couldn't help but look in her companion's direction.

But she was wrong. Martha was crying, in fact; tears were streaming down her cheeks as she looked upon the figure in the bed, and the expression on her face was anything but hatred. "Oh, Lois…sweetheart…I'm so sorry," she said softly, reaching out to grab Lois's hand and hold it tight.

Lois was so stunned, she couldn't react. Had Mrs. Kent not been listening? How could she say that she was sorry when she was the one who was owed the apology? How could she look at the woman who had failed to save her son's life with some loving concern?

"Mrs. Kent, I…," Lois began, but she didn't even know what to say next. Was Martha in shock? Had she simply not yet processed the news she'd been given? Or was she in denial, incapable of coming to terms with such a harsh reality?

The latter seemed the most likely, as Mrs. Kent interjected, "Lois, I know it sounds impossible to believe right now, but…you know, maybe things didn't really…. I know it sounds crazy, but I think maybe Clark survived the explosion, somehow."

Lois's face crumpled and she shook her head slowly. She didn't know which was more cruel – denying the possibility and taking away what futile hope Martha was clearly trying to maintain, or allowing the delusion to continue. Marshalling her strength, she said softly, "Mrs. Kent…I…I know you don't want Clark to be…g-gone any more than I do, but…I'm sorry, I just don't think it's possible. I was there. The explosion…nothing could have survived that."

Martha's expression was enigmatic as she gave Lois's hand another squeeze. It was almost like she was trying to impart some sort of message, though Lois had no idea what that could be. "Oh, sweetheart…you did."

* * *

Clark's trip to the police station took longer than Chloe had anticipated, but when he finally got back to the hospital, he she was laying in wait for him.

"Clark," she hissed as she grabbed onto his arm the moment he walked into the hospital. "We have to talk."

"Chloe," he replied firmly, shaking her hand off. "I'm going to see Lois. We can talk later." He moved to brush past her, but something gave him pause because he turned to give her face a searching look.

Biting her lower lip anxiously, Chloe's voice was strained as she said, "This is about Lois. Clark…I think she's in danger."

* * *

Nothing was more guaranteed to give Clark pause, than those five words and, sure enough, he stopped mid stride and whirled on Chloe. "What do you mean?" he demanded, but she wouldn't answer him right away. Looking over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers, she wrapped her fingers in his jacket and pulled him into an empty room nearby.

She didn't speak again, in fact, until she'd made sure the door was securely latched and the blinds were drawn. Then she stepped closer to him and mumbled in a low voice, "Clark, I thought about what you said before…about Lois maybe being in danger if someone thinks she knows something, and I did a little asking around after you left.

"About an hour after she was admitted, two men came by the hospital and started asking around about the patients who came through the hospital today. I know one of the nursing residents here, Annie – she's a roommate of a friend of mine – and she didn't catch everything they said, but they were asking about girls who might have come been admitted today with certain injuries." Stepping closer still as if afraid of being overheard, her voice was softer still as she muttered. "Injuries that are a lot like Lois's, except they were asking about burns, too."

Grabbing Chloe's arms in a trembling grip, Clark demanded, "Do they know anything? Did anyone mention Lois?"

"No. At least the people I talked to said she didn't think so. But I think someone wants to find out was at that warehouse this morning and they want to know why. And even if they don't know it was Lois, from what Annie told me, they were lurking around the hospital for a while…and Annie caught them hanging around outside Lois's room at least twice.

"I don't know if they know anything, Clark, but I think Lois is in some serious danger. They may not know it was here, but if they have any reason to suspect…they may not want to take any chances. And we can't afford to do anything…_anything_…until we know for sure that it's not going to put her in more danger than she's already in."

Clark knew where she was going, and he cut her off. "No. Chloe, no! There is no way I'm going to wait to tell Lois that I'm…you heard what Mom said! How can you ask me to let her think that I'm dead a _second_ longer than I have to?"

"And I don't want to hurt her any more than you do, but I…I don't think you can tell her your secret yet, Clark! Not until you know who they're working for and what that person knows! You said it yourself; there was _Kryptonite_ in that warehouse! What if not everything that happened today was an accident?"

"That's a pretty big 'if', Chloe!" Clark barked as he released her and started pacing back and forth in frustration. "If they don't know about Lois, they don't know about me! So how could it possibly put her in more danger if I tell her that I'm not dead?" 

"And what if it was Lex Luthor who was behind the explosion, Clark?" Chloe yelled, her voice cracking. It didn't take someone who knew Chloe as well as he did to see that she was terrified; it was in every line of her body, the tremble in her voice, the shaking of her hands. She looked about five seconds away from breaking down, and as she covered her face with her hands and tried to regain control of herself, Clark wrapped her in a tight hug.

It took a few minutes, but Chloe finally pulled away and, with desperate eyes, entreated, "If it was Lex…you know about the experiments he's done with Kryptonite as well as I do; would it really surprise you to find out there was some in one of those crates for whatever reason – maybe part of one of his numerous failed experiments – and told his people to blow the warehouse up to cover his tracks?

"His people probably reported back to him about everything that happened this morning; he may not know for sure that it was you and Lois, but I think it's pretty clear that he's looking into it. And you can bet that he's got his suspicions that the guy who was shot and killed was you. He may even be having Lois watched right now to see what happens next."

She clutched onto his jacket and said fiercely, "After all the suspicions he's had about you…all the years he's spent trying to find out the truth about you…if you show up now, miraculously unharmed, and he knows that Lois was admitted to the hospital with injuries that are almost exactly like the ones he would expect her to have…you're going to give him exactly what he's been looking for all these years!"

"And you think I care?" he demanded forcefully, stepping away from her. He knew she was trying to be rational and was only looking out for his best interests, but he just couldn't bear the thought of what she was asking him to do. "Lex and I stopped being friends a long time ago, Chloe. You think I could be in any more danger from him than I am already and have been for years?"

Chloe shook her head. "I think he's not the type to shy away from the thought of using your weaknesses against you if he thinks he has something to gain. That means Kryptonite. And Lois."

He winced because he knew she was right. He'd walked a very fine line so far, and while Lex might have his suspicions, Clark had managed to keep his secret so far. But he also had no illusions about the man who had once been his best friend. If Lex found out about what his old friend could do, there was no doubt in Clark's mind that Lex would stoop at nothing to use that knowledge to his advantage.

"All right," he agreed finally, his shoulders slumped in resignation. The weight of the world had never before weighed so heavily upon him. "I'll wait to tell Lois about me until we're reasonably sure it won't put her in more danger, but, Chloe, I can't wait long. I can't…I can't lose her like this. I just can't."

"We won't. We'll find out who's behind that explosion, we'll make sure Lois is safe, and then we'll tell her your secret and everything is going to be fine. You aren't going to lose her, Clark, I promise you."

But he didn't – or couldn't – respond, because he couldn't help but feel very afraid that, Chloe's reassurances not withstanding, she was going to be proven wrong.


	7. Chapter 7: The Ghost in the Mirror

**Chapter 7: The Ghost in the Mirror**

_'Life will never be the same.'_ Lois couldn't count the number of times she'd heard or read those words in her life. They were everywhere, in film and in literature. Something terrible, earth-shattering, was clearly _supposed_ to, well, shatter the earth. The world was supposed to stop turning on its axis. The sun wasn't supposed to keep rising in the east and setting in the west. At the very least, time was supposed to somehow stop.

There is cruel and tragic truth, however, in the knowledge that life _does_ go on. Time continues to march forward and the Earth still happily revolves in its orbit around the sun, which doesn't even have the decency to take a respectful pause in its ascent into the sky.

_A loud crack echoed through the air. "Clark! Stay with me Clark!"_ Lois jerked out of the light slumber into which she'd finally fallen after an otherwise long and restless night, her heart slamming in her chest. With a desperate glance around the room, she realized she wasn't back in that warehouse, watching Clark die. She was still in the hospital, and it was early; the light spilling across the foot of her bed was weak. A quick look at her clock revealed it to be only a little after 6 in the morning, but she didn't want to go back to sleep. No more sleeping. No more dreams.

She didn't know what time Mrs. Kent had reluctantly left her bedside the night before, but Lois knew it wouldn't be long until the older woman returned. Lois was getting released today, and she knew that Martha would want to see her safely home – she'd probably even try to convince her wounded charge to join her back on the farm, to be taken care of for a while.

It was tempting, the thought of going back to that idyllic setting where all of Lois's problems seemed to have melted away in the past. For one brief, shiny moment, she imagined sitting in the Kent kitchen, letting the homey atmosphere wash over her, carrying her pain away.

Except the Kent farm could no longer be her home; any place with so many remnants of Clark, reminders of the man he was and the man he would never have a chance to be, would now be more prison than sanctuary. No, she wasn't quite ready to face so many mementos of the man she'd so suddenly and cruelly lost. Frankly, she didn't know if she ever would be.

Sitting up in bed, her gaze travelled over to the closet, where she knew a change of clothes was waiting for her; Chloe had kindly run out the night before to get them from the Lois's apartment. Coming to a swift decision, she sat up in bed and reached for the nurse's call button. She had to leave now; if she waited until Mrs. Kent came to retrieve her, it was unlikely she'd be able to resist the motherly concern that would insist she spend a few days at the Farm to recuperate. As it was, guilt warred so fiercely with desire that only the memory of Clark's pain-filled blue eyes pulled her out of her morass of indecision and catapulted her into action.

Now was not the time to take it easy. She was going to check herself out of the hospital, call Mrs. Kent to let her know she'd done so, and then she was going to put her plan into action.

The hospital staff protested, but it was almost a universal law that few people in the world could withstand against the full force of Lois's personality when she had her heart set upon something. So it was only about an hour later that she found herself outside her cousin's apartment building, staring up at Chloe's window as she spared a second to hope her cousin was already up and about.

With a deep breath, Lois scaled the steps to Chloe's apartment and knocked sharply on the door. There was no point in kidding herself; whether or not Chloe was currently in an alert frame of mind was not Lois's main problem. Her main problem was trying to convince the younger girl to accept assistance with any investigation into Clark's death.

Over the past couple of years, it had become clear that Lois that, in the world of investigative journalism, Chloe still considered her older cousin to be an outsider. Lois knew there was nothing personal about the occasional slights Chloe directed her way, the thoughtless ostracism, and while she'd found it hard not to be hurt by her cousin's casual set-downs, she'd come to realize that she should take any of them to heart. Chloe was simply very territorial about her chosen profession – a fact Lois had always known and viewed with something akin to bemusement in the past – and was, thus, reluctant to reveal her secrets to anyone, even the woman she loved like a sister.

Waiting for her cousin to open the door, Lois resolved that, this time, she wasn't going to let Chloe brush her casually aside. She was going to investigate Clark's murder, with or without help.

Lost in her ruminations, it took Lois a moment to realize that there was noise coming through the thin wooden panel of the door. It sounded like voices, one probably Chloe's, the other the deeper baritone of a male voice, slightly raised as if in an impassioned debate; her cousin apparently wasn't alone. But who could Chloe have over at such an early hour? She was about to find out, because the talking ceased abruptly when she knocked again. When the door was flung open a moment later, it was by Chloe, who did not seem particularly surprised by the sight of the former hospital patient on her doorstep.

"Lois, what are you doing here? You're supposed to still be at the hospital!" Chloe cried accusingly, looking Lois over as if to determine that she hadn't somehow injured herself anew in the short trip from hospital to apartment.

"Good to see you too, cuz. And I'm _fine_," Lois said reassuringly as she tried to peek around the edge of the door to get a better look inside the apartment. "Am I interrupting something?" Chloe tried to look confused, but she was clearly feeling guilty about something, because she startled a bit. "It sounded like you were talking to someone when I came up."

"Oh, no!" Chloe cried emphatically. "It was…um…the television."

An awkward silence fell between them after this pronouncement, and Lois didn't believe this obvious falsification, but if Chloe was having a fight with her boyfriend and didn't think it appropriate to air her dirty laundry to a girl who'd practically been at death's door (or at least thought she was) not twenty-four hours before, Lois wasn't going to push the issue. On the other hand, she didn't want to stay on the stoop all day, so she suggested lightly, "Then do you mind if I come in?"

Chloe flushed in embarrassment as she showed her into the living room, which Lois was surprised to see empty. Was Jimmy hiding in the bedroom, for whatever reason? Chloe seemed as surprised as she, as she kept glancing furtively around her apartment as if looking for something or someone, but she seemed to relax when she realized that the Lane/Sullivan cousins were the only people in the room.

"Chloe, I need to talk to you," Lois began, but she couldn't quite manage to finish the sentence – maybe because her cousin barged ahead, cutting her off.

"Of course, Lois, but first, you need to sit down! I know you don't like hospitals, but you should have waited until they were ready to release you! Are you _trying_ to make yourself worse?" Chloe demanded, fussing over Lois until she caved and lowered herself onto the couch. "And anyway," Chloe continued, "How many nurses did you have to harass to get released early? Okay, now stay there and don't move. I'm going to grab you a blanket from the other room."

Lois tried to protest, but there was no stopping her cousin; Chloe seemed determined to fuss over her like a miniature Mrs. Kent. It was only after Lois was comfortably ensconced on the sofa with her first cup of coffee of the day, having been offered everything from breakfast to a bed to lie down upon, that she was able to broach the subject that was on the forefront of her mind.

"Chloe…I came here this morning because I want to help you with your investigation in Clark's murder." Her pronouncement broke into Chloe's almost non-stop chatter, coming on the heels of an offer of a refill on her coffee, and the younger girl's graceful move towards the kitchen ended with a sudden lurch.

She watched as Chloe took a deep breath, turned slowly, and said, rather unsurprisingly, "Lois, I don't think that's such a good idea." Chloe looked torn, but Lois's mouth turned up in a wry smile. She'd expected this. "I mean, you've been hurt already; you could have been killed! I know you're not going to want to hear this, but you really think you need to take it easy for a little while."

Lois scoffed, "Oh, come on, it wasn't _that_ bad. Okay, so I got banged up a little, but it's not like I haven't had worse." She saw her cousin's expression darken and realized that she was perhaps not going about matters the right way. Dismissing her attempt at lighthearted teasing, she said more forcefully, "Look, I appreciate your concern, but…I want to find out who was behind everything that happened yesterday. I _need_ to know who did this."

Chloe sighed and moved back to the couch, where she sat down and took Lois's free hand; her right arm was in a sling, as the doctors had told her to take it easy on that shoulder for a while. "And I understand that, Lois, but I can't let you get hurt like that again. When I came to the hospital last night and saw you…when I think of what could have happened…" She paused and, with a wince, continued softly, "I've already lost one friend, Lo. I don't want to lose another."

Lois grimaced, torn between needing to find out the truth and not wanting to upset or worry her cousin more than she already had. "Chlo…I don't want to upset you, really. But…don't you understand? I have to do this. I can't just sit back and let these people get away with ki…with what they've done!"

"And I'm not asking you to!" Chloe interjected, jumping to her feet angrily. "But why does it always have to be you, putting your life on the line? Why can't you let people take care of you, just once?"

"Because that's not who I am," Lois replied, her voice trembling slightly, though she was trying to remain calm. "You _know_ that, Chloe. I can't just sit back and do nothing. I just can't!"

It seemed as if the air itself stilled in the tense silence that stretched between the two cousins, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what happened next. Finally, Chloe said flatly, "I'm sorry, Lo, but, just this once, you're going to have to. I'm not going to risk losing you; I'm just not."

Lois jumped to her feet, wincing as her body protested to the sudden move, particularly her bruised ribs. "You can't protect me!" she bellowed, all reason swept away under the force of her anger. Her hands clenched into fists and her face mottled in rage, she screamed, "When are you going to get that? You can't protect me! And, anyway, what do you think is going to happen here, Chloe? I watched him die! Do you understand? I watched him _die_, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it! I held him as he bled to death, and after all that, who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do? Do you honestly think there's even a chance in hell that I'm going to sit back and let…and let…" With a shudder, she broke off, unsurprised to feel the tears that were streaking down her cheeks. Lifting her left hand to her face, she swept away the evidence of her weakness in an angry gesture.

"Lois, sit down," Chloe said softly, looking at her in palpable concern. "Please." But Lois didn't do as she asked; she turned her back on her cousin instead and strode a few feet away, trying to hide the shaking in her shoulders as she attempted to regain control of herself. Finally, after a moment, Chloe murmured, "I-I'll be right back, okay? Just don't go anyway."

Lois barely registered her companion's departure from the room; it took her a little while to regain control of herself. Finally, when her hands had stopped trembling, she glanced around the room, realized she was alone, and she sighed heavily, already regretting her outburst. Screaming at Chloe wasn't the way to convince her to do anything.

And that was when she saw it. With a small cry, Lois darted across the room and snatched up the coat slung over the back of a chair. She'd recognize that swath of red cloth anywhere – it was Clark's, but where had it come from? Had he left it here the last time he came to visit Chloe? And now, of course, he would never return to retrieve it.

A soft sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in the fabric, breathing deeply, searching for something even she couldn't explain. Then she slung the jacket over her shoulders and slipped her good arm into the sleeve, shrugging it on over her t-shirt. It was still warm; had Chloe done something similar before Lois's arrival on her doorstep, or did Lois just want to have Clark back, even for a moment, so much that her brain was willing to pretend something was there when it really wasn't?

She turned away from the thought, too painful to consider for long, and strolled over to a nearby mirror on the wall above a table placed across from the bedroom into which Chloe had presumably disappeared. The sight of her reflection made her wince; no wonder Chloe was so determined to prevent Lois from helping in any future investigations. Without makeup, the skin of her face was wan, except for the lurid bruises beside her left eye and on the right side of her jaw; she looked only slightly better than she felt, in fact.

Grimacing at her reflection, she glanced down at the table before her, taking a moment to gaze at the numerous pictures in frames Chloe had placed there. When she caught sight of one in black and white, she picked it up and stared at it more closely. A photograph of the Sullivans and the Lanes together, taken shortly before Chloe's mother had left, it looked like they were at a fair of some sort, judging by the Ferris wheel in the background and the face paint smeared across two little girls' cheeks.

The people in the group looked so happy – Ella and Sam Lane, and Gabe and Moira Sullivan. Lois was standing in front of her parents, grinning widely at the camera as she proudly displayed the balloon she had clutched her tiny hands. Next to the General, Gabe stood with his face turned away from the camera; he was smiling at the little blonde girl he had scooped in his arms. It was a very young Chloe, and she had her head tucked against her father's shoulder as she pouted at Lois, apparently wishing she had a balloon of her own.

Lois chuckled and put the photograph back down, her sling accidentally nudging a three-part frame hard enough to cause it to topple over, the two outside arms of the frame folding over to conceal the images it held. With a frown of dismay, she scooped it up and prepared to put it back in place when she caught sight of the photos in each of its three openings and caught her breath instead. She remembered that day.

_"Happy biiiiirthday, dear Clarkiiiiie! Happy birthday to you!" Lois had sung with more volume than style as she tossed a handful of confetti over the birthday boy's head while he stared with dubious wonder at the cake she'd placed in front of him mere moments before. It wasn't entirely certain which concerned him more – the cake's lack of a discernable geometric shape, or the icing topping it that had taken on a lurid green color not normally found in nature. "Come on, Smallville, blow out the candles! I want some cake!"_

_"Do I have to?" he'd asked in exaggerated trepidation. "I'm a little afraid to get near it…"_

For a moment, Lois forgot her sorrow and smiled at the photograph in the far left of the frame. The picture Mrs. Kent had taken had captured that perfect moment – Clark glaring down at the cake as if he thought it was about to bite, while Lois smirked over at him and Chloe hid behind his shoulder, apparently ready to make a break for the door at the first sign of movement from the neon-green blob.

Her gaze shifted from the photo on the left to the one in the middle, taken shortly thereafter. Clark was grinning widely at the camera, though there was a hint of surprise dawning in his eyes. Chloe, on his left, had her arm around his waist and was smirking at the camera with an expression of cunning satisfaction: the cat that had just eaten the canary, but with nobody the wiser quite yet. And Lois knew precisely why Chloe looked so self-satisfied and Clark looked so surprised. On Clark's right in the photo, Lois stood clutching his arm, her lips pressed firmly against his cheek in a kiss.

_"CHLOE!" she'd cried seconds after the light from the flashbulb had faded. "You said you were going to kiss his cheek at the same time! Remember? We were going to wait until Martha counted to three, and then we were going to kiss him at the same time!"_

_"Was I?" Chloe asked with feigned apology. "Gee, sorry, Lois. I must have forgotten!"_

_"But it was YOUR IDEA!" she'd screeched in indignation, eliciting an unrepentant laugh from the devious culprit._

_Forestalling Lois from chasing after her cousin in an attempt to exact some retribution, Clark had taken the opportunity to wrap his arm around her waist, smirked down at her and say gloatingly, "Now, Lois, don't try to lay this off on Chloe. If you really wanted to kiss me that badly, you only needed to ask…"_

_With a tug of his arm, he'd twisted her into his embrace and leaned over, dipping her slightly. Then, before she could react to extract herself from the situation, he'd bent down and tucked his face against the curve of her shoulder, as if intent on kissing her neck affectionately. _

_Lois had cried out in an odd combination of surprise, horror, and amusement, her voice a strangled squeak as she exclaimed, "Clark, what do you think you're…!" and attempted to clutch onto Clark so he wouldn't drop her while simultaneously delivering an affronted slap to his arm for daring to attempt such an indignity._

_Chloe had dissolved into a fit of howling laughter, tears streaming down her face as she looked on._

Lois's eyes shifted to the third section of the frame and was unsurprised to behold the image it held: Clark tilting Lois back in a slight dip, his face tilting precariously close to her own; Chloe, standing a few feet away, doubled over in laughter; and Lois looking up at Clark like she didn't know whether to join in on the amusement or commit an act of double homicide.

"That was a great day," a voice came from behind her, and Lois spun around to see Chloe standing a few feet away, an expression of enigmatic apology on her features as she gazed at her cousin.

Lifting the hand holding the photo to her face, Lois gave a futile swipe to the tears streaming down her cheeks with her wrist. "Yeah, it was," she agreed softly, glancing down at the object hand in her hand one more time as she turned back to the table to put it back where it belonged. "I'd almost forgotten how…" she began, but her sentence broke off with a gasp. Out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen movement in the mirror, and her head snapped up to look closer.

It was only for a second, but Lois could have sworn she saw Clark in the image reflected back at her in the mirror. He was standing in Chloe's bedroom doorway, gazing across the room at her with a mixture of palpable longing, sorrow, and regret.

The frame in her hand slipped through her fingers and shattered on the floor as she whirled on her heel and bolted toward the doorway in which she could have sworn she'd seen him standing a second before, heedless of Chloe's cry of surprise as she darted past. She hit the bedroom door running, skidding to a halt finally in the middle of the room as she glanced around desperately.

There was nobody there, and no movement to betray that there ever had been. Lois let out a soft cry, a groan of pain like a wounded animal, and lifted even her injured arm so she could cover her face with her hands. Was it not enough for Clark to haunt her nights and the second of darkness between every blink; his ghost had to now appear to torment her waking moments as well?

"Lois, are you…are you okay?" Chloe asked in heavy concern as she walked up to Lois's side and rested her fingers gently on the sling over her cousin's arm, looking worriedly at her face.

For a second, Lois considered asking Chloe if she'd seen that ghost in the mirror, but clearly she hadn't. No, Lois might be going slowly insane, but it seemed she was alone in doing so. Pulling her hands from her face, she looked down at Chloe and demanded in a broken whisper, "Let me help you, Chloe. Please…I have to do something. I can't go on like this."

"Lois…I'm sorry, but I really can't…you've been through so much; can't you see that you need to take it easy while you recover?" Chloe entreated. "Give me a couple days, okay? Just a couple days, while I look into a few things. Please? If, after that, things are a little better and you're feeling up to it, we'll work on it together. Okay?"

Lois sighed in resignation. She didn't really understand Chloe's last comment, but she understood that her cousin had no intention of allowing her to help in this investigation. Dropping her hands, she squared her shoulders and took a deep, steadying breath. Then, shrugging awkwardly out of Clark's coat, she held it out to her companion. "I should go; I've already wasted enough time this morning. Here…you should have this back." She knew Chloe was only thinking of her, trying to protect her from further pain, but she obviously didn't understand. Nothing that could happen to Lois now could compare to the agony of what she'd already lost.

Chloe looked confused, her eyes travelling from Lois's face to the jacket she was being offered. "Lois, I don't understand…I mean, you can keep it, if you…" she spluttered, clearly not quite following the course of Lois's logic.

"No," Lois said curtly with a sharp bark of harsh laughter. "I don't need anything to help me remember Clark, Chloe. Trust me, I don't stand to forget him any time soon." She thrust the jacket into Chloe's hands and brushed past her, heading purposefully toward the door.

"Wait!" Chloe cried, jogging after her. At the door, she scooted in front of the irate woman and gave Lois's face a searching look. "I know you're angry, and I'm sorry, but you have to understand…Look, this will all make sense, eventually, but for right now, you have to promise me that you're not going to go off on your own and do something reckless to try to get answers. It could be _dangerous_, Lo!"

As if Lois didn't know that. As if she hadn't already lost more than she'd ever thought possible, more than she'd ever really realized she'd even had. But she'd planned for this eventuality, that Chloe would refuse her request, and she didn't want to arouse the other woman's suspicions until it was too late to do anything about what Lois was about to do.

"Oh, trust me, Chloe, I'm not going to go off on my own for a while. I can't; remember? You said it yourself, I'm pretty banged up." She tried to be reassuring, but she spat the words with immense distaste, unable to completely hide her anger and disappointment that, for all that Chloe and Lois had known each other for years, and for all that Chloe loved her, she had never truly understood Lois at all.

To her credit, Chloe looked uncertain, but she slowly stepped out of the way of the door, and Lois stormed past her, slamming the door behind her as she stalked out into the open air. Once in the car she'd rented, she waited until she knew she was out of sight of the windows to Chloe's apartment, then she'd pulled to the side of the road and yanked off her sling in an angry gesture that caused her no inconsiderable amount of pain. Then, clutching the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, she turned the wheel sharply and merged back into traffic.

She'd been telling the truth. She had no intention of doing this by herself. She was going to go speak to the one man who she was sure wanted answers as badly as she, the one person who wouldn't give a damn if she put her safety on the line to find the answers she needed in order to escape from the half-life she'd been subjected to since that loud crack of a gunshot had reverberated throughout a worn-down warehouse, taking away the one thing she'd never realized she'd needed so much but had so taken for granted.

Pulling up in front of the Luthor Mansion with a squeal of tires, she waited until the guard approached her car and then said with steely resolve, "Tell Mr. Luthor there's a Lois Lane here to see him. Lex will want to see me, and if he says he doesn't, tell him I want to talk to him about the string of sabotages at LuthorCorp and it's in his best interests to listen to what I have to say. I only need five minutes."

Chloe thought Lois might be willing to jeopardize her life to get answers. She clearly had no idea that there were some things far more precious, some risks greater than life itself, that Lois was willing to put on the line to find out who was responsible for the blood that was on her hands.


	8. Chapter 8: A Deal with the Devil

**A/N:** I have descovered I love writing Lex!

Okay, everyone...Um...just remember as you read this that you all love me. Lots and lots. Right? cute look

**Chapter 8: A Deal with the Devil**

When Lois was shown into Lex's study, she found the man of the house sitting, tall and imposing, behind his massive desk. As always, she was vaguely surprised by how effectively everything about the Luthor Mansion – not to mention its primary occupant – was designed to give off an air of Power, but it was the first time that she had actually been slightly taken aback by its forbidding (and perhaps slightly foreboding) air. She had to resist the urge to check her palms for nervous dampness or wipe them against her jeans.

He turned and gave her that too-familiar smirk, something in his gaze (as always) seeming to take her in and then casually dismiss her, finding her either wanting in some fashion or at least inconsequential and unimpressive. For a second, she thought about leaving. She could walk away, right now. It was a dangerous game she was about to play, she knew as well as anyone, and it wasn't too late to back out, to leave her soul yet unmarred by a deal with the Devil.

She gave a slight, involuntary twitch, as, for a second, every part of her being screamed to listen to her better instincts and walk away. She knew the man in front of her better than most; she'd certainly spent enough of her time over the past year investigating his nefarious deeds. So she also knew, better than most, that nobody who dealt with the Luthors put their hand in that lion's mouth and walked away unscathed. If she did this now, the Devil would have his due in the future, and she didn't know at what price that would be.

Only one thing stayed her impulse to get out while she still had the chance. _"Come on, Lois!" Clark said excitedly, grabbing her hand and giving it a slight tug to encourage her to accompany him. He looked so endearing, with that boyish grin she found so hard to resist, that she didn't have the heart to refuse him as he pulled her outside and headed toward the barn. "There's something I want to show you!"_

She couldn't leave now. No price Lex Luthor could exact in the future could be more dear than that which she'd already paid.

So, instead of listening to her better instincts, Lois took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked Lex square in the eye. It was time for the two of them to play their little game, and she didn't dare let him know how desperate she was for his help. When dealing with Lex Luthor, she knew only the foolish betrayed any vulnerability – which was, in fact, why she'd removed her sling before arriving at his doorstep.

"Well, well," he spoke, sounding bemused. "I have to say that this is a surprise. Have you come to throw more petty accusations in my face? Or could it be that you've finally given up on your frankly pathetic attempts to find any evidence to support your outlandish allegations and have come to apologize for all the inconvenience you've caused me?"

She ignored the taunt, but it was hard. Oh, how she wanted to throw his words back in his face, but she didn't dare. "Neither, actually," she replied as calmly as possible. "I came here to speak to you about a private matter of some concern to you. Unless you don't want to hear what I have to say…" She let her voice trailed off and moved like she was going to turn and leave, knowing Lex wouldn't let her do so until his curiosity had been satisfied. That was one thing you could depend upon from Lex Luthor: his insatiable curiosity would always get the best of him.

"Ah, yes," he interjected, forestalling her departure – not that she'd intended to really leave. "The rather cryptic message you had Benedict pass on. I believe five minutes was all you said you needed? The clock's ticking; you might want to get to the point before I have you escorted out."

"Not here," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a stern look. "You're going to want to hear what I have to say, but, trust me, you're not going to want the two of us to be…overheard." She gave a significant glance at the security cameras Lex had installed in every room, and she knew that for every one she saw, there was likely three she didn't. Lex looked bored, so she snapped, "I'll sacrifice one of my precious minutes, but I'm not talking to you unless we do it outside." Of course, she knew there would be security footage outside, as well, but at least it would likely not be capable of recording their conversation.

"Very well," he capitulated on a sigh, slowly coming to his feet. "Shall we?"

As they walked out onto his palatial grounds, Lois took a few deep breaths and tried to figure out how she was going to broach the subject. She didn't have much time to ponder the issue, however, as Lex baldly pointed out by glancing at his watch and remarking. "Three minutes and fifteen seconds remaining, Miss Lane. And that's being generous. You might want to get to the point."

Before she could stop to think further of the wisdom of her actions, she blurted, "I know about the sabotage going on at LuthorCorp, Lex."

"Really? And did you piece that together yourself? How very gratifying for you. It's only been reported in every newspaper in the country, but it's nice to see the _Inquisitor_ has finally decided to make basic literacy skills a requirement in their staff writers. It's too bad talent isn't as important to them." He spoke mildly, sounding patronizingly benevolent. She wanted to smack him.

Lois gritted her teeth and kept a firm hold on her temper. Ignoring his remark, she plowed ahead. "I expect you're interested in finding out who's behind the attempts to discredit your image and destroy your company, and so I have a proposition for you. If the two of us work together on this…"

Lex stopped in his tracks, clearly taken by surprise. "Work together? The two of us? Now I know I'm imagining things. What does Clark think about your little proposition, I wonder."

There was no point in beating around the bush. "Clark's dead," she stated flatly, unable to keep from wincing at the cold reality of the words as they left her mouth. "He was murdered yesterday morning."

An enigmatic look passed Lex's face, and she wondered what he was thinking as he fell silent. "Really?" he asked mildly after a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that." At her glare of patent disbelief, he said, sounding almost amused, though his tone still had a bit of venom to it, "Surely you don't think I murdered him? With all the things you've accused me of in the past, you must realize that if I was the devil you've declared me to be, I could have had him killed years ago if I really wanted to do away with him." She didn't reply, having come to that conclusion already, and Lex continued, his voice once again devoid of emotion, "Anyway, are you sure he's actually dead?"

"Of course I'm sure!" she snapped, for a brief second relishing a private fantasy of throttling the man in front of her. "I saw…he died right in front of me; it's not something that can have a lot of ambiguity to it!"

Lex's voice was dry as he replied, "You'd be surprised, particularly when it comes to Clark Kent. This wouldn't be the first time he's died, after all." A slight pause, and then he said in that same mild, vaguely disinterested tone, "So I take it you actually have his body."

She had to swallow heavily a couple times before she could say, "I…no. He…there was an explosion."

"Well, then I suppose one can only hope." Lois didn't know if he was implying one had to hope Clark was miraculously alive somehow or that he had actually perished in the explosion, and for the sake of the truce she was trying to declare, she didn't dare ask. "But I take it you didn't come here just to tell me about his unfortunate demise. So why are you here, Ms. Lane? Your time is almost up."

It was time to get to the point. "I suspect the same person who's trying to destroy you is behind Clark's murder, and that means we both have a vested interest in finding out who it is. Since I suspect you haven't gotten very far on finding him on your own, I suggest the two of us work together." Lex's eyebrows rose, but he didn't laugh her off his property, so she grabbed hold of her courage with both hands and blurted, "I think if the two of us pretend to date, we might lure him into the open."

The corners of Lex's mouth twitched, and he stated with obvious amusement, "You must be joking."

"No," she said, putting her hands on her hips and giving him her most determined look. "I think it's pretty clear that whoever it is destroying your company has taken a particular interest in you, and I'd be willing to bet that means taking everything from you that he possibly can. Including a woman you show interest in. Trust me, I wouldn't be suggesting this if I wasn't absolutely sure that this is the best way to flush him out."

"Indeed," Lex agreed, for the first time showing any reaction at all to what she was proposing as he gave her an assessing look.

She decided to press her advantage. "Your saboteur doesn't just want to bring you down, Lex. He wants to humiliate you. He wants to show the world that he's better than you are, and that there's nothing you have that he can't take from you. The nature of his attacks against your company is indicative enough of that. He wants to personally destroy you, and I'm willing to bet that means taking everything from you that he possibly can – including a woman you seem to want. If we pretend to date, I think he'd try to take me from you, and he'll have to expose himself in order to do it."

Lex looked bemused. "And what makes you think," he drawled nonchalantly, "that anyone would ever believe that I was at all interested in you?"

Though she shot daggers at him with her eyes, she kept her voice deceptively sweet as she suggested, "I don't think anyone would find it hard to believe that you'd be interested in anything that once belonged to Clark Kent." Of course, she'd never been Clark's, but if Lex chose to believe otherwise, that could only work in her favor.

He laughed, a dangerous sound, devoid of humor as he stepped closer to her – too close, in fact. She had to resist the urge to retreat, take a step back, maintain the distance between them. But he was testing her, as he always tested people – looking for their weaknesses, their fears – and she dared not show him any in this. Slowly, deliberately, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him, his eyes mocking her as he met her gaze. In a soft tone, he murmured, "And let's say I go along with this plan of yours. Could you do it, Lois? Even for Clark's sake, could you pretend to be interested in me?"

Lois swallowed heavily once more. She wanted to break out of his embrace, to back away from him. But she didn't dare; she knew that's what he expected, what he was trying to force her to do, in fact. As much as the last thing she wanted to do in the world was to touch Lex Luthor, she knew this was her best shot at finding the man who murdered her best friend.

_"You're going to love this, Lois! Just wait until you see…"_

A renewed grip on her resolve, Lois wrapped one hand behind Lex's neck and pulled him to her, her lips meeting his in a kiss. She tasted his surprise and knew he hadn't anticipated her to go so far – or to be able to. So, instead of pulling back as she wanted to, instead of gagging like her body desperately wished to, she deepened the kiss, prolonging it for as long as she could, her lips daring him in return.

Finally, she pulled back and glared murderously up at him as she spat, "Don't ever doubt that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to find out who killed Clark, Lex. Even if it means pretending to be able to stand you."

Very deliberately, Lex met her eyes as he raised his hand to his mouth to wipe away the trace of her kiss, but she wasn't wounded by the insult. Instead, she felt victorious as he released her and stepped away. She had the upper hand and he knew it. Of course, she also knew he wouldn't be content to let her keep it. "You know, I've always wondered what it was that Clark saw in you, Lois. I always suspected, when he couldn't have Lana, he decided to take what he could get." His gaze roved down her body in a blatantly assessing – and derisive – way, and he remarked, "How does it to feel to know that you were always going to be second best with him, a sad substitute for the woman he actually loved? A poor man's Lana Lang."

That stung, more than it should have. She and Clark had never dated, had never even seemed to entertain the thought of dating. They were friends, pure and simple, and Lois had never even considered trying to be something more. But, still, Lex's comment hurt, and she tried to hide how much as she shot back, "I don't know, Lex. Maybe you could tell me."

If she'd hurt him in return, he didn't show it. "Bravo, Miss Lane," he commented, seeming unconcerned by her remark as he turned away from her. She didn't press him, as she imagined he was thinking over her proposal. Her suspicions were confirmed when he turned back to her and said, "So you think that if I pretend to be interested in dating you, we'll flush my saboteur – and presumably Clark's murderer – out in to the open? It's an interesting theory."

"What do you have to lose?" she asked, victory so close she could almost taste it.

"You mean, other than my standards?" he returned scathingly. "Of course you know, for this to be convincing, we can't just seem to be willing to stand each other. We have to appear to actually like each other. I don't know how I'll manage to pull it off, but, then again, if there's one thing my father's taught me, it's how to hide what I'm really feeling. But do you think can do it? Can you pretend to actually like me?"

He was taunting her again, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Why? None of your wives have bothered to do so."

There was something ugly in his face as he took a menacing step towards her. For a second, she was convinced he was going to hit her, and she tried not to flinch. "Oh, very clever, Lois. God, I wonder how Clark put up with you for so long; he must have been a saint to be able to pretend that he wanted to have anything to do with you. I wonder, was it pity or desperation that kept him coming back to your bed? It couldn't have been desire; that much I can tell already. So tell me, do you think he was happy, when he died, at the thought of finally being rid of you?"

_She was on her knees, begging Clark to stay with her as she felt his life slowly slip away. "No, Clark! Open your eyes! I need you!" _But he hadn't responded to her pleas. Had he really tried to stay with her? Had he even wanted to?

She shoved that question, agonizing as it was, away. Through the haze of rage that swept over her, Lois forgot that she was trying to get Lex to help her and, thus, had to stay on good terms with him. In her fury, she didn't think at all; she just slapped him, feeling immense satisfaction in the sharp crack of her hand against his cheek, though the sudden action caused her shoulder to ache. Her voice shook as she said in a low, menacing voice, "Don't you talk about him, Lex. Don't you dare talk about him! You don't deserve to even say his name!"

Her satisfaction fled, however, when she realized that she'd done exactly what he'd wanted to her to do, and thus given him the upper hand. He grabbed her wrist and gave it a tight squeeze, his grip almost painful, as he grinned smugly down at her when she tried – and failed – to pull her arm from his grasp. "The kitten has claws, I see. You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

And then his mouth was on hers again, but she didn't fool herself for a minute into thinking it was desire that caused him to kiss her, any more than desire had propelled her to kiss him a few minutes previously. He was punishing her for her words, showing her that she couldn't hurt him, that her efforts to do so were pale and insignificant. His arm wrapped around her waist like a vice as he pulled her tight against him, and though she tried to break away, she wasn't able to do so until he'd made it clear it was on his terms, not hers.

When he finally released her, she stumbled back, out of reach, hating herself for letting him gain the advantage over her and wondering how she'd lost control of the situation so completely in so short a period of time. Still, while she wanted to wipe that supercilious smile off his face, she couldn't deny that the situation could still work in her favor. If Lex thought he could maintain the upper hand in their interaction, he might be more predisposed to agree to her proposition. "So, Lex, will you do it?" she asked softly, as if nothing untoward had just passed between them.

Lex shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose. I imagine it could be dangerous, as much for you as for me. Still, I expect that, at the end, I'll either know who's been trying to destroy my company, or you'll have gotten yourself killed."

"So you win either way," she finished for him, her words lacking bite. It was a simple statement of fact, one which she didn't even bother to try to deny – to herself or to him.

"Exactly. So, as long as you can present yourself as a woman I'd conceivably be interested in, I have no objections to indulging in this little charade. For a little while, at least." He paused, looking thoughtful. "And as long as we're going to pretend to be dating, we might as well start tonight. I have an invitation to an event that starts at eight." Again, he shot her that derisive look. "Or do you think that's not enough time to make yourself presentable?"

There was no mistaking the insult, but Lois couldn't afford to give in to her petty indignation. "I suppose so, but I'd better get started," she said wryly as she turned to go, trying to hide her relief to be taking herself from his presence. She hadn't gotten very far, however, before he called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. "You know, I have to wonder what Clark would think about this little charade of ours, Lois. Of course, I think I'd know how he'd feel if he saw the two of us together, even if it is just an act." He sounded unreasonably cheerful at the thought. "But what would he say if he knew you were so desperate for revenge?" She heard him approach, but she still didn't turn to face him.

"Of course, he always pretended to be such a good person, didn't he? So above the whole petty concept of revenge. I can only imagine what he'd say if he found out that Second-Best Lois Lane was willing to do anything – even voluntarily consort with me – to get it?"

Very slowly, she did turn at this, staring him straight in the eye as she conceded, "He was a good person, Lex. The best man I've ever known. A better person than me, certainly."

"And when you find his murderer? What will you do? Will you do what Clark would have wanted and bring him to justice?" Lex was looking at her searchingly, taking her measure.

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, but her voice was low as she replied softly, "When I find who did this…whoever it is…I'll kill him." It wasn't just a promise; it was a warning. Of course, she didn't think Lex was behind Clark's murder, but if she found out she was mistaken, she wanted him to know that even their temporary truce wouldn't save him. "Whoever did this is going to find that they murdered the wrong person, Lex. They should have shot me. Clark would have been kind to them; he would have shown them mercy, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to find them and I'm going to kill them when I do. And I promise you now that I will do anything I have to in order to make sure that nobody gets in my way."


	9. Chapter 9: The Morning After the Night

**Chapter 9: The Morning After the Night Before**

Lois awoke the next morning with a pounding head and the irresistible need to shower – her third since the conversation with Lex the day before. She stood under the scalding hot spray and let it wash over her, pretending for the moment that it could carry away all her problems. Still, though she remained there until long after the water had become tiny ice-cold droplets pelting down on her, she seemed to bear the burden of her sorrow and guilt no less.

With a heavy sigh, she turned off the water and reached for a towel, making her way over to the mirror above the bathroom sink, where she stared balefully at her reflection. She looked like hell; there was no beating around the bush or pretending otherwise. Without the makeup she'd meticulously applied the night before, the bruises from the beating she'd taken stood out in sharp relief. There were bags under her eyes brought on by a restless sleep that she'd discovered even sleeping pills couldn't entirely dispel, and her face looked tight and drawn.

But at least she wasn't crying, and that was a start. It was more than she could say for the evening before, after she'd returned from her "date". Lex had taken her to the Metropolis Planetarium, of all places, and if it weren't for the fact that he could have had no way of knowing she was going to suggest the two of them work together that very morning, she'd have thought he'd intentionally chosen the situation to cause her as much pain as possible.

As he escorted her around the room, stopping to look at various displays while making sure they were seen together by everybody who was anybody, Lex had bent close to her and murmured in her ear, "My dear, you don't seem to be enjoying yourself. You should smile, or you'll have the world thinking you're not taking pleasure in my company."

"Of course I'm not," she'd snapped involuntarily. "And don't frown at me like that, Lex," she'd murmured, turning and pretending to adjust his tie as she noted his narrowed eyes. "Everybody knows you're never more intrigued than when you're chasing after something you think you can't have – like a kid longing for a shiny new toy. I'm just helping make this believable."

"Oh, of course. My mistake," he'd commented, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray and handing it to her. "And still, I would have thought you'd have enjoyed yourself tonight – if not for the pleasure of my company, then because of the venue. I always thought this was just the sort of thing Clark would have loved. Or did he not share that particular passion with you?" His eyes, more than his words, taunted her, implying his skepticism that Clark would have shared so much of himself with someone who meant so little.

"Astronomy has never really interested me," she'd told Lex coldly, trying not to cringe at the feel of the hand resting lightly on the small of her back as she turned away from him and his mocking smile. That her words were a lie hadn't mattered; neither had the memory whispering in her ear. Lex had brought up Clark's name to hurt her, as if there was even a second of any day in which she could have mercifully forgotten. He could think what he liked; she'd be damned if she let him tarnish such a cherished memory by even knowing of its existence.

_"Lois, look through this," Clark had eagerly instructed, standing her in front of the telescope he'd resurrected by the window of his barn loft. "It's the brightest Mercury's going to be for a hundred years, maybe more."_

_"Mercury?" she'd asked, bemused, teasing him even as she bent over to look through the telescope lens at the object he was so eager to show her. "That's what you're so excited about? You brought me out here to look at Mercury? You really are a bit of a geek, you know that, Smallville?"_

_She'd glanced up at her companion with a grin, just in time to see him put his hands in his pockets and give her an awkward shrug. "Astronomy's…one of my hobbies," he'd explained, sounding a bit embarrassed, and she'd felt bad for making light of something that obviously meant something to him._

_Straightening, she'd turned toward the loft window and gazed up at the stars above. She'd never really noticed them before with anything more than a passing glance, but as she stood there in silence and let her gaze rove across the heavens, she'd reflected that it was no wonder why Clark was so drawn to the study of the stars. His hobby was like the man himself: unassuming at first glance, but there was definitely more going on under the surface than met the eye. One simply had to look closer._

_Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she'd said warmly, "So I suppose that means you really know your stuff, huh, Smallville? So show me something. Teach me the constellations."_

_As he'd moved to stand by her side, he'd looked down at her a small frown and asked suspiciously, "You really want to know about all this? Because, you know, you don't have to humor me, if you really find it boring. Or I could get you a book to look at, if you're just curious."_

_"Not at all. I've discovered a sudden and uncontrollable desire to know everything there is to know about astronomy, and I want you to be the one to teach it to me." There was oddly more than a grain of truth in her words. However, he obviously hadn't noticed and hadn't taken her seriously, as he'd moved to walk away from her, so she'd whirled and grabbed his hand, forestalling his escape. "I'm sorry…I won't tease you…much. But, seriously, if it's important to you, it's important to me. That's what friends are for, right? And I…I don't want to know what some boring old book has to say about the stars. I want to know what_ you _see when you look up there. So would you show me? Please?"_

_Clark had smiled and moved to stand close behind her, stooping slightly to see the heavens from her point of view as he gestured to various stars in the sky. He'd sounded so eager, almost like an overgrown kid, as he pointed at one particular clump of stars that looked pretty much like every other clump of stars in the sky. "Well, that one right there…that's Cassiopeia."_

_"And who was she?" Lois had asked softly as she leaned back against him, distracting herself from her utter absorption with the touch of his breath as it caressed the side of her neck._

_Sweet, kind, oblivious Clark had shifted slightly closer, not helping things a bit, and replied, "In mythology, she was Andromeda's mother, and she declared herself more beautiful than any of the Nereids, the sea nymphs. When they complained to Poseidon…"_

How much she would have enjoyed going to that event if it had been Clark by her side. He would have loved it, and she could just picture how eagerly he would have dragged her from exhibit to exhibit, telling her every story he knew about the objects on display. And she would have enjoyed herself, too. For as much as she'd teased Clark at the beginning, as they'd spent countless nights side by side, staring up at the stars, she'd come to love the subject as much as she loved…

Lois startled with a gasp, dropping her hairbrush into the sink with a clatter. No. She didn't mean to end that sentence with the word she suspected had been about to come immediately to mind. She didn't love Clark. She hadn't loved Clark! They had been friends, nothing more, and she couldn't bear the thought that she might have felt something more and hadn't realized it until it was far, far too late to do anything about it.

"No…oh, God, no…" she moaned, holding her hand to her mouth. Was it possible she could have been so blind? So stupid? But even Lex had accused her of as much the night before.

The night before…her stomach churned at the memory. What had seemed like a brilliant plan in theory had been a living nightmare in action. Even she hadn't imagined how utterly unbearable it would be to stand by Lex Luthor's side and project an air of anything other than disgust. That she had somehow managed to portray to the world the impression of a woman taken in by the man by her side while, at the same time, studiously avoiding touching him as much as possible was something of a miracle.

"Bravo, Miss Lane," he'd told her as she was stepping out of the limo when he escorted her home at the end of the evening. "I have to say, you're a better actress than I realized. You must have really loved Clark, to be willing to do all this, just for him."

"I didn't love Clark," she'd responded automatically as she'd slammed the door in Lex's face, but even she couldn't explain why it was, then, that she'd sobbed herself to sleep shortly thereafter.

No, she hadn't loved him. She couldn't bear to let herself think otherwise. The pain of his loss was unbearable enough already; if it got any worse, she suspected…it just might kill her. "I didn't love him. I didn't!" she implored of the reflection staring back at her. It didn't seem convinced.

A scream of defiance and anger echoed through the tiny bathroom, shortly followed by the sound of shattering glass as the mirror broke into a thousand pieces that fell in a tinkling harmony of notes into the sink. Lois didn't even notice the blood on the hand she'd just put through the glass as she stared down at the shards glinting up at her, the image reflecting up at her as broken as her spirit, itself. "I didn't love him," she repeated softly.

If her reflection in the mirror still had its doubts, it no longer had the capacity to convey them to her.

She whirled on her heel, mindless of the shards of broken glass under her bare feet as she raced through the bathroom and into the bedroom, where she stopped only long enough to throw on some clothes and grab her purse before making her way to the door. She didn't know where she was going; she only knew that it was away – away from the memories and the doubts that plagued her. She had to find a way to convince herself that what she'd so forcefully and insistently declared had been, in fact, the truth. She had to find a way to convince herself that Clark's death hadn't been an even crueler loss than she realized. She had only lost her best friend, not the man she had loved without even realizing what he'd meant to her.

As she made her way out the door, she heard the beep of the answering machine carry across the living room, and though she paused in her tracks for a moment, she didn't stop to pick up the phone. She hadn't even heard it ring, truth be told, and she refused to be delayed from her escape now.

"Lois, it's Chloe. Pick up the phone…could you…could you pick up the phone? I need to talk to you. I saw the papers this morning, and they say…" The sound of the door slamming behind Lois as she fled the apartment drowned out whatever it was the papers said, but Lois couldn't have cared less.

Heedless of Lois's abrupt departure, Chloe's message continued. "They're calling you a 'Lex Girl' and there's a picture of you and Lex at…Lois, would you _pick up the phone_?" Had Lois actually been home, she probably would have responded at that, but she wasn't home to hear her cousin's uncharacteristic frantic desperation, so the point was moot.

"Oh, God, please tell me you didn't…you didn't do anything…rash…did you? I thought you were going to go home to take it easy! Oh, he's going to kill me. He's absolutely going to _kill_ me, but how was I to know…? Oh, God, I don't know…You're not with Lex _right now_, are you? Lois? Okay, maybe you're just sleeping in. I _hope_ you're just sleeping in.

"Look, I have to call…I can't just let him see the papers this morning; he'll have a heart attack! Just…look, stay where you are, okay? I mean, stay in your apartment. Do not – I repeat, _do not_ – go see Lex. I need to see you, but there's something…I'll be over there as soon as I can." As the line disengaged, Chloe could be heard moaning one more time, "He's going to _kill_ me."

And then the apartment fell silent as the line went dead.


	10. Chapter 10: The Road of Good Intentions

**Chapter 10: The Road of Good Intentions**

"C'mon, Clark…pick up the phone!" Chloe growled impatiently at the repetitive ringing in her ear. When he didn't pick up after ten rings, she snapped the phone shut with a cry of exasperation and tossed it back onto the counter, not missing a beat of her frantic pacing back and forth. Why wasn't anyone answering their phones? Chloe felt like she'd been given a front-row seat to witness one of the Seven Signs of the Apocalypse, and she couldn't get a hold of anyone to find out what the hell was going on!

Veering slightly from her path, she stormed over to the counter, where she swiped the morning's paper from its cluttered surface and opened it with a firm shake, as if doing so would, as with an Etch-A-Sketch, erase the image she was about to glare balefully at for the four millionth time.

No, it was still there. The photographer had captured Lois and Lex as they'd entered the party; she was fixing the camera with a tight smile, and he had his arm wrapped around her waist and was whispering something into her ear. As they invariably did when she glanced at the image, Chloe's eyes travelled down to the accompanying article, which she read with an incredulity that was hardly lessened by repetition.

_"NEXT LEX GIRL A FAMILIAR FACE" by Maria Harper_

_Lex Luthor, billionaire philanthropist and sole heir to the considerable Luthor fortune, is considered Metropolis's Most Eligible Bachelor after the recent finalization of his divorce from trophy-wife Lana Lang, but the city's socialites (and every woman in the world who's ever entertained the fantasy of adding that coveted "L" to the end of her monogram) let out a collective sob tonight when they watched him enter the Planetarium with a new girl on his arm – Lois Lane, former Chief of Staff for Senator Kent of Kansas. Dear Reader, I know that you are wondering the same things the rest of us pondered when we noted that the eminently delicious Lex hardly strayed from Ms. Lane's side last night: What did a girl from Podunk, Kansas do to catch the hottest man in town's eye? And how long can she keep it?_

_Well, fear not, dear heartbroken readers. This Reporter's on the case._

_As it turns out, Ms. Lane is not a native Kansan, after all. The daughter of Army General Sam Lane, she worked for a while as Senator Martha Kent's Chief of Staff, though many wondered at the sudden appointment, as she had neither the necessary experience nor any apparent qualifications for the position. Those In the Know (and you can rest assured that This Reporter strives always to be considered among that group) have speculated that the rumors of Ms. Lane's on-again, off-again relationship with Senator Kent's adopted son, Clark, could have had more than a little something to do with her inexplicable good fortune._

_In fact, it seems that Lois's relationship with the Senator's son may have been more serious than she's ever publicly admitted. According to sources (who shall remain nameless), she and Clark actually lived together in Smallville! Their relationship apparently came to an end when Senator Kent moved to Washington and decided not to take her Chief of Staff along, leading many to wonder if the Senator was secretly displeased with her son's choice of paramours…or if the Senator discovered that the entire relationship was a ploy on Ms. Lane's part from the beginning, aimed at getting the lofty position that she did, in fact, attain. (Though This Reporter tried to contact several of the parties involved in this story, including the Senator and her son, they have thus far refrained from returning any phone calls. The question must be asked: do they have something to hide?)_

_The jury's still out on these questions, but still one remains: what is an opportunistic Army Brat doing with a highly coveted jetsetter like Lex Luthor? Nobody really knows; nor is it apparent whether Ms. Lane is Lex's Flavor of the Week (to be quickly and mercifully forgotten sooner or later) or if there are more serious things in store for this couple._

_Lex has not yet been available for comment; however, reputable sources indicate that he and the young Mr. Kent were once friends in Smallville but suffered a falling out a few years ago. If this rumor is true, could the clever Ms. Lane be responsible for this turn of events? And, if she and Lex first met during the years they spent in Kansas, was there more behind the dissolution of Lex's marriage than he's ever admitted?_

_Only time will tell. However, This Reporter will not rest until these questions are answered once and for all._

Bile rising in her throat, Chloe tossed the paper aside in disgust yet again. She would have felt affronted at the implication that there was no logical reason why Lex Luthor and Lois Lane would be dating, except that she shared the feeling for much more personal reasons. Of all the people she would have thought to fall under the miasma that was Lex's charms, Chloe never would have thought her cousin would have joined the throng.

She still didn't, in fact, but then what was Lois doing anywhere near Lex's arm?

Of course, it didn't take a huge leap of logic to reach the conclusion that the recent inexplicable turn of events had something to do with the fact that Lois believed Clark to be dead, but, still, Chloe couldn't believe that matters had escalated out of her control so quickly. What the hell had happened? When she went to bed the night before, it was with a certain reasonable assurance that the situation was being handled. She and Clark were going to figure out who had been behind the attacks at the warehouse, and Lois was going to remain safely at home until such time as she recuperated from her injuries.

Upon waking that morning, Chloe had come to the unpleasant realization that she had been deluding herself in the latter, at least. And now she couldn't even get Lois – or Clark for that matter – on the phone!

"What am I gonna do?" she moaned helplessly, rubbing her fingertips across forehead. At the sharp peal of her cell phone ring, she jumped and darted toward the counter, scooping her phone up with trembling fingers and flipping it open. "Hello?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Chloe…you know, I go out of town for a while, and look what happens! Do you want to tell me what the hell's going on in Metropolis?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded genuinely affronted, slightly joking, had an undercurrent of serious concern, and was very familiar, but it wasn't one of the voices Chloe had so desperately hoped to hear.

"Oliver," she said with a heavy sigh. "I…I guess you saw the papers this morning. I don't know what's going on, but…"

He interrupted her, sounding fairly alarmed. "The papers? No, what was…? Never mind; we'll come back to that. Actually, I was talking about…have you checked your e-mail today?" At Chloe's negative response, he explained. "You might want to do that now. As you know, I've been keeping pretty close tabs on Lex lately, trying to shut down 33.1 once and for all. Well, as part of my surveillance program, I've been hacking into his security footage. A couple hours ago, I sent you a file of some images his cameras picked up yesterday morning."

Her stomach heavy with dread, Chloe walked over to her computer as Oliver typed and pulled open her e-mail. She saw Oliver's message right away, and she clicked on the link it contained and waited for the file to load while he continued, "I thought maybe you could explain to me what the hell's going on, because there's no way what I think is happening in the video is actually happening!"

Chloe had thought it wasn't possible to feel any worse, but as she stared at the black-and-white images on the video file, she realized she'd been wrong. There was no audio, but it wasn't necessary to hear the words being spoken in order to understand what was going on. Lois and Lex were standing close together somewhere on the grounds of the Luthor Estate, having an intense conversation. And then, inexplicably, nauseatingly, Lois grabbed hold of Lex and kissed him.

Chloe thought she might throw up.

Staring at the screen as though transfixed, Chloe almost did throw up a few minutes later when she saw Lex grab on to Lois and kiss her in return.

Slamming her computer shut with one hand, she whirled away and it was only then that she remembered the phone she still had pressed to her ear. "Oliver, I…" but she had absolutely no idea how to end the sentence.

"Chloe, what's going on?" the man on the other end of the line asked quietly. "What is Lois doing with Lex Luthor, of all people?"

With a small moan, Chloe sagged against the wall and covered her eyes with her hand. This wasn't going to be easy to explain. "She…she thinks Clark's dead," she muttered quietly.

There was a brief, shocked pause at her words, and then Oliver asked, "He's…Clark's dead? How did that happen?"

"No, he's not," she corrected him miserably. "Lois just thinks he is." Before he could begin to grill her about her statement, she began filling him in on all the details – beginning with Lois and Clark's expedition to the warehouse and ending with the promise Chloe had thought Lois had made the day before to stay out of trouble. "And now I just don't know what to do because I can't get a hold of her or Clark, and I'm really worried that she's going to get herself killed with whatever game this is that she's playing!" she finally exclaimed into the phone, her voice taking on that familiar frantic edge. How was it that Lois so often managed to turn her into a nervous wreck?

Making a scoffing sound, Oliver snorted. "Chloe…that's exactly your problem! This isn't some kind of game! I'm sure you realize it's not a game to you and Clark, but what you don't seem to realize is that it's not one to Lois, either!

"Did you honestly think she'd just sit back and wait for you two to take care of the problem for her? Did you think that, when given reason to believe she's lost someone she loves as much as she loves Clark – a fact you'd have to be blind not to notice if you happen to so much as glance at the two of them together – she wasn't going to rush out to do something about it? I'm not shocked that she's putting her life on the line, trying to find the person who's supposed to have killed Clark. I am shocked, however, that this seems to be a surprise to the two of you! Do you even know your cousin at all, Chloe?"

"She's been hurt!" Chloe cried defensively into the telephone receiver, but Oliver didn't seem to be impressed. If she'd thought to get some understanding from him, it didn't take her long to realize she was out of luck. "She needs rest, Oliver, not…not…not whatever help it is she thinks she can get from Lex Luthor!"

There was a loud sigh, and then he asked shortly, "And when has Lois ever stopped to think about what's best for her, when it comes to the people she loves? The Lois I know is willing to do whatever it takes, to hell with the consequences; is the Lois you know so different?"

Chloe still didn't want to concede the point he was trying to get across. She didn't want to admit that, when it came to understanding (let alone handling) her cousin, she couldn't possibly have messed things up any more if she'd tried. "It's Lex Luthor. She's kissing _Lex Luthor_! I don't care if she had reason to believe he had the culprit trussed up and ready for trial; I can't believe that she would have gone to him for help without even aski…" Before she could even finish the sentence, her voice trailed off because she realized that what she'd been about to say had been a lie. Lois had come to her for help; she'd simply been pushed away. "Oh, God…I have to fix this."

She didn't even hear what he said next as her brain worked furiously to find a way out of this situation. If they had only told Lois the truth about Clark the day previously…! But they hadn't, and now things had gotten exponentially worse. Lois was no longer a one-woman force to be reckoned with, a beloved cousin who might be understanding about the situation if Chloe and Clark only found the right words to explain things. She was now in Lex Luthor's immediate sphere, and that was a very dangerous place to be, indeed.

"Let me know what happens." Chloe finally realized Oliver was still talking, and she tried to turn her attention back to the conversation at hand. "I'll get to Metropolis as soon as I can, but I can't get away from here just yet. And, Chloe…whatever you and Clark do about this situation with Lois, be careful. I've had my suspicions before that Lois has been under surveillance, ever since she made it clear she was intending to write a story about the Luthors. I have every reason to believe that suspicion is correct, and…if so…in true Lois fashion, she's pretty much stuck her neck on the line, and I don't want her life to be in any more danger than it already is."

Chloe had no idea what she said to finish the conversation, but as soon as it had ended, she tried to call Clark again. Still no answer, so Chloe resumed her pacing. She wanted to rush over to Lois's as soon as possible, but she knew she needed to talk to Clark first. If he saw the newspaper article before being warned about what it contained…well…she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

She didn't know how long she'd been pacing back and forth, mulling over all the mistakes she'd made, but there finally came a knock on the door and she rushed to answer it. Throwing it open, she saw that the man she'd been both longing and dreading to see was standing on her stoop, but faced with the thing she'd been awaiting all morning, she realized she couldn't find the words to explain things to him. "Clark," she said weakly, oddly wishing she'd had more time to prepare.

"Hey, Chloe," he responded softly as he made his way into her apartment. When she'd closed the door behind him, he turned to her and asked urgently, "Have you talked to Lois today? How's she doing? Is she feeling any better? Did she tell you if…"

"Clark," Chloe blurted, cutting off the stream of questions that only succeeded in making her feel worse. "There's something…I haven't talked to Lois yet. I was going to head over there after I'd talked to you to see…but there's something I need to tell you f-first."

Something in her expression or tone must have indicated her distress, because he looked at her in concern as she stammered to a halt. Whatever he saw there must not have been encouraging, however, because all expression drained from his face and he stared at her from behind shuttered eyes. "What is it, Chloe?" he asked flatly, sounding almost resigned. She knew that, though he had no way of knowing what she was about to say, he could tell it wasn't something he wanted to hear.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe braced herself and said, "Clark, it's…it's Lois. I don't know how to tell you this but…there's an article…it's in the newspaper this morning…it says…oh, God, I can't…In the paper, there's a picture of Lois, taken last night. And she's…she's with Lex."

Clark looked stunned. In fact, Chloe doubted he'd look any more amazed if she'd told him the Earth was about to go spinning into the Sun. Finally, still clearly unable to process her news, Clark asked, "Wh-what do you mean, 'with Lex'? You mean…I don't understand; what does that mean?"

Feeling like she'd swallowed a lead balloon, Chloe bit her lip and looked mournfully down at the floor. With heavy steps, she walked over to the discarded newspaper and snatched it up. Then, though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she handed it over, her hand trembling slightly.

He grabbed it from her and started scanning the article in question as Chloe looked on in concern. She watched as all expression drained slowly from his face with each passing second, his features becoming downright forbidding. A long minute passed, but he still didn't look up from the paper, though she knew he had to have finished the article already. Though she entertained a brief, happy bubble of hope that he might not hate her at the moment as much as she hated herself, when he looked up her, his face was a mask of rage. His blue eyes cut through her like shards of ice, and she winced in the face of his cold fury.

"I don't understand," he snapped. "This…isn't this exactly what we were trying to prevent?"

* * *

"I…Well, we…" Chloe's voice trembled, and at any other time, Clark might have taken pity and backed off. This time, however, he didn't give a damn whether she felt miserable or not, whether she was sorry that it had come to this. He felt like his entire world was crumbling around him, and there was nothing left to him but that grainy photograph, which broke his heart anew every time he glanced down at it. 

Before she could find a way to dig her way out of the hole, Clark interrupted her, "Tell me! Isn't this what we were afraid of, Lex getting within three zip codes of Lois? Two days ago, at the hospital, isn't that exactly the argument you used to convince me not to tell her that I was still alive?"

He'd crumpled the newspaper in his fist, but he didn't notice. He did see that Chloe looked like she was about to cry, and he knew that he should calm down, that there was no way that she'd wanted this to happen any more than he did. He couldn't stop shaking, however; he felt weak and slightly sick, as if he'd just swallowed a chunk of Kryptonite.

"I…Clark, I thought…I never thought this would happen!" she cried, her voice at least an octave higher than usual. "How was I to know that she'd…?"

"Because she's Lois!" he yelled. "Because she was upset and we knew it and we didn't do anything about it! It doesn't matter that we didn't know she was going to go to Lex Luthor, we should have known that…"

"We should have known what?" Chloe interjected. "That she was going to go to Lex? I mean, how could we possibly have known that? What could she even be doing there, Clark?"

He began to pace back and forth, unconsciously following the path Chloe had trod earlier. "You said it yourself," he said fiercely, not looking at his companion. "At the hospital, you said that Lex could have been behind the explosion at the warehouse! Is it really hard to believe that Lois might have come to that same conclusion?"

"But, Clark, she was _kissing_ him!" she cried, and Clark stumbled to a halt, abruptly ceasing his agitating pacing.

He didn't move for a moment. Then, very slowly, he turned to face his companion. She had her hand pressed against her mouth and was staring at him with wide eyes, as if she wanted to take back those words she'd thoughtlessly, cruelly, tossed his way. "What?" he asked in a hollow voice, and though she gave her head a small shake, she didn't explain. "Chloe, what do you mean, she was kissing him?"

Wincing, Chloe dropped her hand from her mouth and stared mournfully at him. "I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

He shook his head, denying her words. He couldn't quite process them; they didn't make any sense. Lois, kiss Lex? He couldn't even imagine it. "No, she wouldn't do that…she would never do that," he finally managed to say, and though Chloe didn't respond, he saw her eyes stray in the direction of her computer.

Clark spun around and raced to the other side of the room, lifting the lid on her laptop even as she cried his name in protest. It took a second for the computer to wake up, but once it did, he saw an open movie file and pressed the play button, his eyes searching the screen desperately.

He watched with disbelieving eyes as the scene played out in black and white before him. Lois and Lex were standing outside, deep in conversation, when Lex suddenly seemed to laugh. Clark's hands shook as he saw his nemesis step closer to the woman on the film; he wished he could hear what was being said. And then, unbelievably, Lois wrapped a hand around Lex's neck and pulled him close, meeting his lips with her own.

Clark's knees buckled, and if it weren't for the blind grab he made at the desk, he probably would have fallen. He couldn't breathe; he couldn't think. "No…" he whispered, watching as the kiss continued. "No…Lois…"

He didn't know when Chloe had moved to stand behind him, but a hand suddenly reached out and snapped the computer lid closed. "You don't want to watch that. I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you about it."

Clark shook his head slightly, but he didn't respond. Though the computer lid had been closed, hiding away the images it had just betrayed, he could swear he could still see them playing out in front of his eyes. Lois, wrapped in Lex's embrace. Lois, kissing the man Clark hated most in the world. Lois…

Again, Chloe spoke behind him, her voice tentative as though she was afraid of his reaction – for which he could hardly blame her, considering his sudden silence and the fact that he still hadn't turned to face her. "C-Clark, I know it looks bad, but…I'm sure it's not quite how it looks."

He could barely find the breath to speak the words. "You mean, you don't think Lois is actually in love with Lex, and I'm not about to lose the most important person in my life to him?" Those damn images were still haunting him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with one hand in an attempt to block them out as he took a ragged breath. The wood under the hand he'd placed on the desk groaned in protest as his fingers convulsed suddenly, and he hurriedly dropped his hands to his sides before he could unintentionally do some damage…or intentionally do some damage, since he was sorely tempted to smash Chloe's computer into smithereens.

"I know," he said finally, staring at the closed lid of the laptop with sightless eyes. "I know Lois. I know how she feels about Lex better than just about anybody, but if she's…if she's even volunteering to go within ten yards of him without…she's doing it because of me, because she wants to know what happened to me! You think I don't know that? Do you really think I'm entertaining even the possibility that she's not doing this because she thinks I'm dead and she wants answers?

"You thought that telling Lois that I was still alive might put her in more danger, and I stupidly went along with it because I didn't want to do anything that might get her any more hurt than she already has been. And now, because we didn't tell her everything from the very beginning, she's…" He broke off, unable to continue with that particular sentence. Instead, she said, "If we'd told her…if she knew I was alive, at least then I could go to her and do everything in my power to keep her safe, but now…? What can I do for her now, Chloe, without making everything worse?"

He was angry, and he was desperate, and though he knew that Chloe had no more wished for any of this than he had, he hated her at that moment. "I don't know, Clark," she whispered. Then, in a slightly stronger tone, she said in an attempt to mollify him. "I know it looks bad, but we'll figure it out. I…I messed up. We should have told her. But I honestly thought…!"

It didn't matter to Clark what she'd honestly thought, and he straightened, shrugging off the hand she's placed reassuringly on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter, Chloe. You didn't do this." He paused and then turned slowly to face her, for once not looking to her for help, or answers, or even reassurance. He knew what had gotten all of them into this untenable situation, and it was high time he stopped hoping someone else would find a way to get them out of it. That Chloe had been wrong to suggest that they hide the truth from Lois was irrelevant; Clark had gone along with it, and in doing so, he'd hurt the person he most wanted to protect. "I did."

His eyes were still cold as he went on. "I wanted to tell her from the moment I walked through those hospital doors, and I should have just done it. I should have been there for her; maybe I could have protected her. Whatever else happened…I could have made sure that she was okay, and at least then she wouldn't have spent the last two days thinking…I should have told her. I should never have let this happen."

"Clark, you can't blame yourself!" Chloe interjected. "You had no way of knowing that Lois would turn to Lex, and you were just trying to do what was best for…"

"Don't tell me that," he began, but she cut him off again.

"But it's true! Of course you didn't want to put Lois in more danger, and you had no reason to…"

"It doesn't matter!" Clark yelled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I love her, Chloe! I love her, and I let her get hurt! I let her think that I was dead; I let her think that she was all alone, and _that's all that matters_! Don't you understand that?

"I love her, Chloe. I love her, and I hurt her."

Turning on his heel, he stalked towards the door. It was high time he stop looking to others for the answers; he knew exactly what he should do, and he'd be damned if he let anything else get in his way. He loved Lois. He wanted to be with her. At the very least, he wanted to alleviate some of the heartache he'd unintentionally caused her. There was nothing more important than that.

"Clark, wait!" Chloe called, striding after him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find Lois," he said curtly as he threw open the door, not breaking stride. "I have to talk to her."

He heard her footsteps behind him as she chased after him and cried, "But wait! Let me come with you! I want to help!"

Throwing open the door, Clark looked back at Chloe, and something in the coldness of his gaze must have shocked her, because she stumbled back a couple of paces. "No," he bit out, his face drawn with both determination and rage. "Not this time. I'm going to tell Lois everything, and then, assuming she ever forgives me, we're going to find a way out of this situation. Together."

He turned away from her look of regretful apology as he slammed the door behind him with an odd sort of finality, leaving Chloe on the other side.


	11. Chapter 11: What Tangled Webs They Weave

**Chapter 11: What Tangled Webs They Weave**

"Lois, there's something I need to tell you," Clark murmured to himself, practicing what he was about to do as he gazed around the corner and down the street to the woman in question's apartment building. Of all the times he'd pondered how to tell her the truth about himself, all the scenarios in which he'd imagined he might confess all to her, he had never once pondered having to do in the context of disillusioning her about his supposed death.

With a heavy sigh, he tilted his head back, resting it against the rough stone of the wall behind him. He could not imagine anything more difficult – or more important – than what he was about to do. His hands trembled as he took a shaky breath and reached for the hood to the green leather jacket he wore, pulling it over his head.

He hadn't wanted to take the time to put on such a disguise, but in the end, he'd had little choice. Clark didn't know exactly what Lois was doing with Lex, but it didn't take a genius to realize how much danger her new circumstances put her in. Lex was conniving and clever, with an unhealthy fascination with surveillance. Considering his paranoid obsessions, the odds were pretty good that he was having his new "girlfriend" watched, and even though Clark wanted more than anything to tell Lois the truth about himself, he would die before he put her in more danger in the process.

So he supposed it was fortunate he still had the costume Oliver had given him once, long ago, when he'd taken part in a little charade to keep Lois from learning about the Green Arrow's secret identity. That was also when he and Lois had shared their first kiss, and if it wasn't the kiss that launched a thousand ships, his gut reaction to having her in his arms was probably the first indication that there was more to his relationship with the girl he'd considered the bane of his existence than he'd been willing to admit – even to himself – up until that point.

He slipped the sunglasses over his eyes with a slight frown. The last time he'd done this, he'd been perhaps shamefully pleased at the prospect of fooling Lois. At the time, he'd refused to acknowledge his motives, but in retrospect, he had to admit that he had actually been happy that Oliver had refused to open up to Lois, that their relationship had never progressed to that level. Even as much as Clark had tried to push Ollie and Lois together, he knew that he'd been secretly glad that it hadn't worked out. He'd never pondered why, never let himself wonder at that pang of jealousy that he felt every time he saw the two of them together.

Now he knew the answers to all these mysteries, of course. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Clark peered around the corner, staring in the direction of Lois's apartment. Even with the costume, it was probably not a good idea for him to stroll nonchalantly out in the open. Heaven only knew who might be watching. On the other hand, what was super speed for, if not for this?

In the blink of an eye, he was standing before her door, and it was at that moment that he realized something was seriously wrong. As much as Lois took her life into her hands on a regular basis in a professional capacity, she was far less careless with her personal safety at home. Clark was often somewhat bemused by the numerous locks on her door – three at least – a peculiar quirk in a woman who regularly flew in the face of danger.

But now all those little locks that Lois meticulously locked each night were unbolted, and the door was ajar. Listening closely, he didn't hear any sounds from within the apartment, and his x-ray scan betrayed no signs of a human form, living or dead. Feeling only slightly comforted, Clark poked his head through the crack and surveyed the room within a bit more carefully.

It had been completely demolished. Debris was scattered about, broken glass and stray sheets of paper were strewn around the room. Stuffing was sticking out from deep gashes in the couch cushions, and, as Clark moved carefully into the room, he saw the photographs from Lois's mantle broken and torn on the floor. This wasn't a random act of degradation, a casual violation, one stranger to another. There was something vindictive, something personal, about the destruction. Lowering slowly into a kneeling position, Clark gingerly picked a picture frame up off the floor, one side torn askew to list at a drunken angle.

As if handling something precious, he flipped the frame over and stared sadly at the tattered image it had once protected. It had always been a favorite of his, this photograph, which was curious since he was nowhere in it…and since he'd been absolutely miserable at the moment that it had been taken.

_"How do I look, Smallville?" she'd asked coyly, twirling in front of him to show her dress off to the best advantage. _

_Her little move did exactly what it was supposed to do, because he could swear his mouth went dry and his breath caught in his throat when he realized the swath of dark red velvet fit her like a second skin. Not that Clark had been interested, but a man would have to have been blind not to have been stunned into speechlessness at the sight of her. Unfortunately (an odd word to come to mind, he'd thought at the time), she wasn't wearing the dress for him. She was wearing it for someone else entirely, and that very thought made him scowl. _

_"You look…uh…you look good," he'd finally managed to stammer stupidly, almost dropping the digital camera he'd been fiddling with as he waited for her. At the sound of her chuckle, he'd cleared his throat and said with a bit more confidence, "I mean, you look fine, Lois."_

_"Fine? Just fine?" she'd parroted, turning away from him to fix the image in the mirror with a critical look. "Should I have gone with the blue one instead? I really like this guy, Clark, and I just want to… You know what? I'll wear the black. It's a little…"_

_Hating himself for having caused her to doubt herself even more than he hated the thought of her out on a date with a man as clearly undeserving of her as the one about to escort her, Clark had stepped forward and barked suddenly, "No!" At his yelp, Lois had paused, her reflection fixing him with a curious look. Suppressing the urge to tell her that jeans and an old tattered sweatshirt would be better (though, he had to admit, she looked good in even that), he said instead, "No, Lois, you…you look amazing. If you really like this guy…you should wear that one. Really. You look…you're beautiful, Lo."_

_The skepticism on the face of the image in the mirror faded slowly. "You really like it?" she'd asked softly, and for a moment, he could have sworn that there was more behind her words than simple curiosity or an invitation for him to bolster her ego._

_He had searched at that moment for those pretty words that came so easily to others, a turn of phrase that would tell her exactly how incredible she looked. No. Not just incredible. Absolutely breathtaking. "I do," he'd replied softly, and as that beautiful soft smile of hers began to tilt the corner of her lips, he'd felt the inexplicable compulsion to add, "Metropolis."_

_At that, her face and broken into a wholehearted grin, and she'd turned to look at him over her shoulder, a lock from the cascade of curls that flowed down her back falling forward to slightly obscure the look in her eyes. But still, it was there, and the smile she threw him lit up the room and caused a tightness in his chest that once again stole his breath away._

_He didn't know what had caused him to do it, but he saw something behind that look in her eyes that compelled him to lift the digital camera to his face and snap a photograph before that warmth faded._

His chest hurt once again when he saw that tattered and torn photograph, and very gently, he pulled the broken frame apart and extracted the photograph, slipping it into his pocket. Another cursory glance around the room told him nothing, except that whoever had broken into Lois's apartment hadn't been looking for money or valuables. Her entertainment system was still present (though her television lay broken on the floor), and though he didn't have the time or inclination to do a physical inventory at the moment, the only object that seemed to be missing was, of all things, her answering machine. That was just odd.

Rising to his feet once more, Clark strode towards Lois's bedroom, wanting to see the pervasiveness of the destruction. He was unsurprised to find this room demolished as well, her clothes strewn carelessly about. After one quick turn around the room, he began to make his way towards the bathroom when his foot was snagged by something, and he paused, looking down at the floor.

It was that red dress, only there wasn't enough left of it for the term to qualify any longer. Someone had taken a knife to it, slashing it to ribbons. In fact, glancing around at the room, Clark realized that someone had taken a knife to almost all of Lois's clothes. Who had done it, and what the hell had they been after?

Unable to ponder the thought at the moment, Clark made his way quickly to the bathroom, and it was there that his concern escalated into full-blown panic. He saw the broken mirror, the shards of glass in the sink. And blood.

There was still a wet towel on the floor. Had the intruders come upon Lois as she'd stepped out of the shower? Had she put up a fight? What had they done to her; had they taken her with them? And, if not, where was she?

His hands trembled as he took a careful look around. There wasn't much blood about the place, just that little bit on the sink and floor. Maybe she was okay. Maybe she…She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. No, she had to be okay, had to be alive, and so Clark couldn't waste any time in finding her. But where could she be?

He closed his hands around the curve of her sink, he head bowing forward as he tried to suck a couple deep breaths of air into his lungs, forcing himself to remain calm. It was hard to push back the terror, to ignore the thought of what might have happened to Lois. But panicking wouldn't get him anywhere right now, and if Lois truly was in danger and needed his help, he wasn't going to be much good to her if he didn't keep his focus and concentrate on finding her.

He had to look at it rationally. There wasn't much blood, so she was likely not severely injured. Had the intruders taken her with them, or had she somehow gotten away? When the trembling in his hands almost caused the sink to break away from the wall, he stepped away and walked slowly back towards Lois's bedroom, assessing the room with a critical eye.

He couldn't help but think that his first impression had been correct. This attack had been personal; whoever it was had been targeting Lois. The men who'd blown up the warehouse? Had they finally managed to track her down? But what did they want from her now? If it was them and all they wanted was to cover their tracks, it seemed likely that they would have just killed her and left her body behind.

Clark had to take a couple deep, steadying breaths at the thought, pushing away the image his mind conjured of Lois lying broken and lifeless on the floor. He couldn't think like that right now. She was alive; he simply had to find her.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the men behind the warehouse explosion. So who else could it be? The only person who came immediately to mind was Lex, but why would he do it now? He and Lois were working together; what did he stand to gain by abducting her?

Closing his eyes, Clark tried to think of anything he might be missing. At the moment, only the Warehouse Guys and Lex had the motive to do this sort of thing to Lois, at least as far as Clark knew. He hoped those were the only two suspects to be found, because if there was someone he didn't know about, he had no idea how he'd ever find her.

So what should he do now? For a moment, he was almost overpowered by crippling indecision; it was only after a few more deep breaths that he managed to clamp down on his paralyzing fear once more and come up with a plan. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and, after a second of internal debate, dialed Oliver's number.

As soon as the line was engaged and Clark heard the familiar voice on the other end, he said abruptly, "Oliver? It's Clark. I need you to do me a favor. I noticed that footage on Chloe's computer this morning came from you, and I…No, now's not the time," he said, forestalling whatever it was that the man on the other line began to say. "We'll talk about it later. I think something might have happened to Lois, and I need you to look into something for me. It seems like you're watching Lex pretty closely, and I need you to go over anything you've got from…uh…let's say the party last night to the present." When asked what he was looking for, Clark said curtly, "I think…Lois is missing, Oliver. I think someone might have taken her. I need to find her. Immediately. Call me when you find anything."

Having obtained Oliver's assent, Clark snapped the phone shut and considered calling Chloe, but what could she do? She didn't know who was behind the attack on Lois any more than he did, and, thus, she couldn't possibly give him any ideas as to where else Lois might be hidden.

Lacking any idea where else Lois might be hidden, however, there wasn't much else Clark could do at the moment, not without any other clues. So, clamping down on the urge to do a counter-productive run around the city, trying to look in every single building he passed to see if he would find Lois there, Clark closed his eyes and tried to view the situation objectively.

It was possible, he supposed, that she hadn't been home when the intruders had come into her apartment. Granted, that possibility seemed unlikely, considering the broken glass and blood in the bathroom. But he couldn't abandon hope that Lois was okay; he couldn't give in to the fear that urged him to run directly to Lex and forcibly demand her immediate and safe return – particularly since he had already come to the conclusion that it was possible that, for a change, Lex wasn't the villain behind the plot.

On the other hand, he wasn't about to sit back and depend on Oliver or anybody else to make sure that Lois was safe. He needed to do something, and even if he didn't know where or how she was at the moment, there was no way he could sit idly by and do nothing until he found out. And it occurred to him that, on the slight chance that Lois hadn't been home during the invasion, she might still be in danger. If whoever had torn this place apart had come with the intention of permanently silencing the presumed only living person that could implicate him (or her) in Peter Williams' murder, they might want to finish the job.

Though it seemed like a far shot, Clark didn't have any other immediate ideas on how to find Lois, and if she was in danger, he wasn't going to waste time waiting at home when he could be doing his damndest to find her. So with one last look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he sped away.

Even with super speed, Clark felt like it was taking too much time to get from place to place – time Lois didn't necessarily have – and it didn't help that his efforts were to no avail. He searched the length and breadth of Metropolis, but he couldn't find Lois anywhere. She wasn't at Chloe's (which he determined by x-raying the place as he sped past; the last thing he could afford at the moment was to waste time on another tense scene). Neither was she at the Daily Planet, her favorite coffee shop, or even Clark's own apartment. Every shop Clark could think of that she might visit, every place he thought she might go, he checked, but Lois was nowhere to be found.

Having run out of options, he ducked into an alley and checked his phone. There were no missed calls, and though his immediate urge was to check in with Oliver to see if he had found anything, Clark knew there was no point. If Oliver did find anything, he would waste no time in calling.

He sighed and ran an impatient hand through his hair, dislodging his hood as he did so. He had to think. Impatience – a desperate desire to do something, anything – thrummed in his blood, but what could he do? He had to be overlooking something!

Lois was injured, saddened, and (so far as she thought) alone. In a similar situation, Clark imagined there was just one place he would want to go: home. And for Lois, as for him, there was only one place that could be. Replacing his hood, he raced towards Smallville.

It didn't take him long to get to the Kent Farm, and his heard fell heavily when he saw that there was no sign of life from the house. The lights were off; there was nothing to indicate that anyone had visited this place since the last time his mother had come to town.

Just when he was about to leave, he heard a noise coming from the barn and turned, listening closely. It was soft, rhythmic, and familiar – a heartbeat. And not just any heartbeat. Lois.

Clark's knees went weak, and he was almost felled by his sudden surge of relief. She was here. She was alive. She was safe…at least as safe as she could be, under the circumstances. He wanted to race to her side, to hold her close and not let her go, but he realized there were at least one or two major flaws with that plan. For one thing, she thought he was dead.

So, instead, he moved slowly. Now that he knew she was here, now that he knew she was safe, he was back to his original problem. How was he going to tell her that he was, too?

* * *

With a heavy sigh, Lois stretched, trying to work some of the kinks out of her back. Muttering a curse, she looked around the room with a baleful glare. Damn it, she hadn't found what she was searching for yet, but it probably didn't help that she had no idea what that might actually be. 

Scowling, she looked around and ran her hands through her hair, clutching her palms to her forehead. For the first time, keeping her eyes open did nothing to keep her thoughts of Clark at bay. At home, at Lex's, and even at Chloe's, Clark's memory had been with her but at least there were times when other distractions helped keep her from thinking about everything she'd lost. Now, there was no escaping her thoughts of him. He was in everything around her; she didn't even have a single memory of this place that didn't feature him in a starring role, and it was killing her.

Slowly dragging her hands down her face, Lois was surprised to feel the dampness on her cheeks, but she simply wiped it away and returned to her task. She had to find it, whatever "it" was – that thing that would prove to her that she'd never loved Clark, after all.

With heavy steps, she crossed over to the telescope and ran a gentle hand down its side. So many nights, so many memories. _"What was that for?"_ Clark's ghost whispered softly in her ear, and the sudden unwanted recollection of a night not long ago burned, but her mind refused to let the memory go, bringing forth the ghost of her nervously murmured reply. _"Just for being you, I guess."_

Lois spun away from the telescope; her salvation was not to be found here. In a search for a distraction, she moved to his desk and slowly pulled open its drawers far enough to peer inside. She didn't know what she hoped to find there…maybe a photograph of Lana. If she could at least assure herself that whatever feelings she might have entertained towards Clark had never been returned, she might stand a chance of convincing herself that it had all been merely a figment of her imagination.

There was nothing that might help in this regard – no photographs of Lana. No love letters, no crappy attempts at poetry, no mementos of an unwavering devotion. Nothing. Except, in the back of the top drawer, she did find one object of note: Clark's journal, the one she had given him as a birthday gift some years before. It was dog-eared and battered, and though she'd occasionally wondered if after the party he hadn't merely slipped her gift on a shelf and forgotten about it, now she knew otherwise. He hadn't just kept her gift, he had used it.

Sinking slowly into his chair, Lois clutched the journal to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. In her hands, she held a record of Clark's most private thoughts, everything he'd kept bottled up inside and refused to share with the rest of the world. It was a hell of a temptation and the only thing that might conclusively prove that he didn't – or did – feel anything for her beyond friendship. Should she allow herself to delve into his private thoughts in her search for answers that wouldn't change anything to a question that ultimately didn't matter anyway? It wasn't like he was alive any longer to object or feel betrayed by the intrusion.

Leaning back in the chair, she fingered the corner of the journal, biting her lip hard as a war raged within. She didn't have to read much; maybe she could just flip to one of his most recent entries, read what he wrote about her, and then get on with her life – at least insofar as she had a life left. She'd been searching for proof of his feelings for her, and, rather unexpectedly, she'd actually found it. Did she have the courage to actually find out what those feelings were?

Her hands trembled as she hooked her thumb underneath the front cover and prepared to flip the journal open. It wouldn't really be an invasion. She was only going to peek! And once she found what she was looking for, she'd put the journal away and never, ever look at it again.

Except she couldn't do it. Lois's curiosity, her burning desire for answers, had stuck her in a multitude of difficult situations in the past. It drove her on, it kept her going. But now, for the first time in her life, it failed her. She wanted to know if Clark had loved her, but, at the same time…she was terrified of finding out the truth. And, honestly, she didn't know if she was more scared at the thought of discovering that he hadn't loved her or finding out that he had.

Either way, she just wasn't up to it, so she tossed the object in her hands back on the desk and jumped to her feet, storming as far away from the innocuous looking journal as the tight quarters would let her. When she felt something brush lightly against her hand, she looked down to find her blue scarf blowing in the gentle breeze coming through the open window. And that was how she came face-to-face once more with everything she'd rather forget.

The memories crept up upon her without warning.

_"Merry Christmas, Lois," Clark said awkwardly as he handed her a box. She opened it to find a blue scarf of some almost unbelievably soft fabric inside. _

_"Thanks, Smallville. Merry Christmas," she replied in kind, stroking it gently with her fingers._

---

_"Aren't you cold?" she demanded in exasperation as Clark strode nonchalantly toward her. She would swear it was forty below, and his jacket looked entirely too thin for the weather._

_Rather obnoxiously, he seemed vaguely surprised by the question, as if the thought that he was three minutes away from hypothermia had never occurred to him. "No, it doesn't really bother me."_

_Scoffing, she yanked off her scarf and wrapped it around his neck, tying it securely. "Yeah, and people with hypothermia stop noticing the cold too. Besides, I'm freezing just looking at you. Leave it on." He looked like he wanted to object, but she fixed him with a fierce glare, so he shrugged his shoulders and capitulated. Before he could get any ideas, however, she said sternly, "Just don't forget to give that back to me later. That happens to be my favorite scarf."_

_She realized her mistake about five seconds too late. "Oh, really?" Clark asked teasingly. "Didn't I give you this for Christmas two years ago?"_

_Feeling very uncomfortable at the implication, she turned away. "It's…uh…blue. I love blue."_

---

_"You cold, Lois?" Clark asked when she shivered, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "We could go inside."_

_"No," she responded softly, tucking her body against his side as he adjusted her scarf in an attempt to keep her warm. "I'm fine. I'm perfect, actually."_

---

_"So you're sentimental, huh? I don't know why that doesn't surprise me," Lois said laughingly as she peered over Clark's shoulder and into his box of objects that, if she didn't know better, she'd say was just a bunch of junk._

_"Are you telling me you're not?" he asked, clearly bemused, but he quickly replaced the lid and set it aside, as if reluctant for her to see the physical remembrances of his most cherished memories. "I find that a little hard to believe. Everyone keeps mementoes, Lois."_

_With a slight shake of her head, she said firmly. "Not me." At his skeptical look, she shrugged and said flippantly, "My childhood wasn't exactly full of things worth remembering."_

_He looked thoughtful for a moment before giving her that sideways grin she'd always found so adorable. "So maybe we should do something about that. I should give you something to remember me by. I mean…us. My family, that is."_

_Lois laughed again, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated gesture as she moved to sit by his side. "As if I stand much chance of forgetting you," she teased, taking off her scarf and wrapping it around his neck. "Here. Keep it."_

_"What's this for?" he asked, fingering the blue cloth._

_"Just wanted to make sure you had a little bit of me in that box, Smallville," she said lightly turning her attention away as she bent to grab her laptop off the floor._

_She could have sworn she heard him mutter, "Who's to say I haven't?" but when she looked back up at him, he looked too innocent for her to believe those words had truly been spoken so she wrote it off as a figment of her imagination._

_--- _

_Lois grabbed Clark's old football jersey off the floor of his closet and slipped it on over her t-shirt. He hadn't worn it in years (which was all for the best, as it looked much better on her, anyway), had probably long forgotten its existence, but still, after a moment's thought, she shrugged her jacket on over it and zipped it up. She'd return his jersey to him some time, she told herself firmly, but, for the moment, she liked having something Clark-ish around. Maybe he had a point about that whole mementoes thing. Of course, she didn't have to let him know that she was considering changing her mind about the matter._

---

_"What was that for?" he asked in confusion, staring at her intently._

_Lois felt like he was seeing too much, so she looked away as she responded, the tremor in her voice betraying her nervousness. "Just for being you, I guess."_

---

Lois wanted to scream, but it wouldn't do her any good, so she turned away from the window and stared around the room as if seeing it for the first time. So many memories lurked just below the surface. It came as no surprise, of course, but there was so much of Clark here. What was a bit more shocking, however, was how much of her there was in this room. She felt like the story of her relationship…her friendship…with Clark could be told by the collective things in this room. An old sweater of hers that she'd left behind on her last visit lay carefully folded on the chair. There were random bits of her – hair ties, hurried scribbles jotted on bits of paper, and the like – scattered around the room. And the telescope spoke of nights she spent with him, staring at all the stars in the sky.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an old familiar photograph – the Kents, standing on their front porch, smiling happily into the camera. Slowly, almost gingerly, Lois picked up the photograph and ran a gentle finger down the glass, caressing the images of men she'd both loved and lost. It just wasn't right; it wasn't fair that they'd both been taken from the people who cared about them.

Very carefully, she laid it aside and turned her attention to the other photos in the room. There were a couple group shots of Clark, Chloe, and Lois that had obviously been taken at the Talon. There was also one of Lois standing next to Jonathan Kent on the night of his election party and another of Lois and Mrs. Kent in the Senator's office.

She saw a postcard she'd sent the Kents from one of her many family-mandated trips overseas. The text on the card itself wasn't noteworthy, but when she pushed it aside, she saw what it had been concealing.

A small photo was propped up against the wall. Lois remembered that day. She had been trying to teach Clark how to dance when Mrs. Kent, armed with a digital camera, had surprised them both. The photo might have looked deceptively romantic, were it not for the expression of extreme discomfort bordering on terror on Clark's face. For the first time in two days, Lois felt the urge to laugh at the memory of how nervous Clark had been.

_"Come on, Smallville. It's not a complicated process. Your feet are at the end of your legs, and you'll find this whole "dancing" thing goes a lot better if you move them every once in a while," Lois said lightly after adjusting his hold on her. _

_Looking grumpy, Clark muttered, "You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?"_

_On a laugh, Lois replied, "As a matter of fact, yes. And, incidentally, it won't kill you or me to have more than five molecules in your body touching mine at any given time. I don't bite."_

_His look of discomfort escalated. "I don't know…" he began before his voice trailed off._

_She didn't know why he seemed so worried, so she tried to reassure him. "It's not your hands that worry me, Smallville; it's your feet." He hadn't trodden on her yet, but she didn't expect a reprieve for much longer. _

_"Look, maybe this is a bad idea," he said curtly, trying to drop his hands and step away, but she grabbed him by the forearms and held tight._

_Gazing intently into his eyes, she asked, "What are you so afraid of, Clark?" And even she wondered if she was referring to just this moment or this dance._

_If she couldn't understand her own motives for asking, there was no way for her to translate the wealth of meaning behind his words when he stared silently into her eyes for a moment and then murmured softly, "I never want to hurt you, Lois."_

_"You won't," she assured him, moving a bit closer. She didn't know what made her do it. Maybe it was the music playing softly in the background. Maybe it was the dance (or pseudo-dance). Or maybe it was the way he was looking at her as the soft moonlight spilled through the open loft window, casting a romantic glow that had no right to intrude upon what was otherwise yet another not-particularly-noteworthy evening spent with her best friend._

_Whatever it was, Lois ran her hand slowly up the curve of his shoulder, stopping only when her fingertips curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "You're not going to hurt me, Clark," she whispered, and then she was kissing him, his arms wrapping around her waist, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was a stupid, foolish thing to do, kissing Clark, but she didn't care. For weeks, he'd been driving her crazy in a million tiny ways. The brush of his breath against her neck as he stood behind her. The sound of her name on his lips when she called him on the phone late at night, when she just needed someone to talk to. The look he sometimes got in his eyes when he gazed down at her. The way her shirt would smell like him after a long evening spent together, and she didn't know how it got to be that way. He'd been driving her crazy, and so, even though she knew it was reckless and foolhardy, she gave in to the urge to kiss him._

_Lois didn't know how long she got lost in the feel of Clark's lips against her own – it could have been an hour or it could have been just a few seconds. When she finally pulled away, she found that somehow, she'd been brought flush against his body, her arms wrapped around his neck while his were clutching her waist. She was breathing heavily, she realized, struggling to get breath. From kissing Clark?_

_"Sm…Clark?" she croaked a bit in disbelief, and then the old familiar fear punched her in the stomach and she staggered backwards suddenly, breaking out of the comfort of his embrace. She might have fallen if he hadn't reached out and wrapped his hands around her ribcage, steadying her gently._

_They stared at each other in mutual disbelief for a long moment, and then Clark asked softly, his voice betraying his confusion, "What was that for?" _

_He was staring at her too intently, Lois was afraid. She wondered what he saw behind her eyes, and she didn't want to reveal more than she already had, so she looked away as she responded, her voice trembling. "Just for being you, I guess."_

_"Lois, I…" he began, but she cut him off, stepping away again._

_"No, Clark. I shouldn't have done that. That was a mistake." She didn't want to hear what he was about to say, and she didn't want to face, even to herself, what that might be. It had been nothing, after all. A stupid mistake._

_But he reached out for her, and at the touch of his hand against her, she looked up into his eyes once more. There were a hundred questions there, and she couldn't answer any of them. So, instead of brushing him off and running the risk of letting him believe things that couldn't be true, she asked softly, "Can we pretend that didn't happen?"_

_"What are you afraid of?" he asked gently, turning the tables on her._

_In a voice that was almost a whisper, she replied, "You. I don't want to hurt you, Clark."_

_"You won't."_

But she had been adamant and had neither slipped in such a fashion nor allowed the potential for such a moment to arise between the two of them again. After some time, Clark seemed to have accepted that she really did want to be just friends, after all, because he'd stopped bringing the subject up.

That had also been the last evening Lois had spent with Clark, staring up at all the stars in the sky.

What would have happened, Lois had to wonder, if she hadn't been so afraid? Would she have realized that she loved him sooner? Would he have told her that he loved her? Because he did love her – maybe not in the way that she didn't want to love him, but it was clear that he cared about her. It was obvious in everything in this very room: there was so much of Lois right there, wrapped up with so much of Clark.

She didn't know what tipped her off, but she realized suddenly that she wasn't alone and her head lifted suddenly as she spun around. She didn't know who she'd been expecting to find there, but it certainly wasn't the figure she actually saw.

"Green Arrow!" she cried in disbelief, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for some kind of trick. "What are you doing here?"

He was quiet for a moment, and she wished he didn't have those damn sunglasses on. She was no longer quite so curious about his secret identity, but she wanted to see the expression in his eyes. "I…I've been worried about you, Lois." Either he was lowering the pitch of his voice in order to mask its natural sound or his voice was rough with emotion. Given that she and Green Arrow had hardly been the closest of allies in the past (that one kiss borne from a serious case of mistaken identity notwithstanding), she was willing to bet it was the latter.

Still, she couldn't think for a moment of what could possibly have concerned the Green Arrow to the point of seeking her out, and then it hit her. He undoubtedly had heard that she was now dating Lex Luthor, and it didn't take a genius to realize there was no love lost there. The first time she'd met the vigilante in tight green leather had been the night he'd stolen some Luthor property from around Martha Kent's neck, after all.

"Don't be," she said curtly. "I know what I'm doing. I'm going to find out who killed Clark."

The Green Arrow stepped toward her, and she didn't know why, but she could swear he suddenly seemed nervous. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Lois. I…I know you care a lot about Clark, and…"

"Care about him?" Lois repeated on a harsh laugh devoid of humor. That didn't even begin to describe it. She glanced down at the photograph in her hands, the reminder of so many of her stupid mistakes. Maybe she'd cared about Clark. Maybe she'd loved him, and maybe he'd loved her in return. The point was, she'd never get the chance to find out.

He'd abandoned her, and she'd been able to do nothing but hold him as he'd left her behind. Maybe that delusion she'd had in that state between consciousness and oblivion hadn't been so far off the mark. Maybe all there was left of her now was a million tiny Lois ashes, gathered together and stuffed into a mockery of her old life, her old self.

He'd left her behind, but he'd taken part of her with him when he went. And now there just wasn't enough of her left.

"Are you kidding me?" she continued, her voice ugly, and she heard the glass on the frame crack as she slammed it back in its place. "I _hate_ him."


	12. Chapter 12: The Chill of a Familiar Face

**Chapter 12: The Chill of a Familiar Face**

A long silence followed Lois's harshly-spoken statement. "You don't mean that," the Green Arrow finally said in a choked voice that cut through the tension that had fallen in the room.

"Why not?" she demanded angrily as she crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw at a stubborn angle. "Why can't I mean it?" When he didn't answer her, she demanded fiercely, "Tell me! Tell me why I can't hate him!"

She honestly didn't know if she was trying to argue the point with him or actually begging him for an answer, and she watched as slowly, he reached up and brushed his gloved fingertips against the side of his sunglasses. After a moment, he dropped his hand to his side again and said, "You guys…you were friends."

For a second, she was tempted to beat him over the head with something, but instead, she pressed her palms to her eyes and sighed heavily. "Friends…," she moaned a bit pitifully, and when she dropped her hands to her sides, she looked up at him with wet eyes. "Clark was my best friend," she whispered in a pained voice. "I never realized…" Biting her lip, her gaze skittered away from his face as she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged them tight against her body. "Why is it so hard to let him go? Why does it hurt so much to lose something I never had?"

She knew her companion could have no way of understanding what she was talking about, but he didn't demand an answer. Instead, he cleared his throat and approached her, his movements slow and deliberate, like those of a man approached a tiger that might turn and attack at any moment. "Lois," he began, but before he could continue, she turned and looked searchingly up into his face again, as if begging him for answers to a question she knew he couldn't pretend to understand.

In two long strides, she was right in front of him, and she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and pulled him closer. "Help me forget him," she whispered. It hurt to ask such a thing, but, then, it hurt more to have to.

"Lois, I'm so sorry," Green Arrow murmured, and he sounded so sincere, she almost believed he was. He looked like he wanted to say more, but she didn't give him a chance. His concern would do her no good, and she didn't want his pity.

Instead, before he could say anything else, she took a step closer to him. She was surprised when he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, as if trying to offer her comfort. But there was no comfort for her, at least not by him. The only person she wanted to turn to for solace was the one person who no longer had the capacity to offer it. Wincing at the thought, she almost changed her mind and pulled away from the man before her, but then he held her like he cherished her and her fingers convulsed, digging into his biceps. "I don't want to feel like this anymore," she admitted in a broken whisper. Then, before she had a chance to think about what she was about to do and run the risk that she might reconsider her actions, she kissed him.

She had kissed him before, she remembered. Convinced that the Green Arrow was secretly her then-boyfriend, Oliver Queen, Lois had plotted with Clark to set up an elaborate scheme to put her theory to the test. Rather mortifyingly, she had discovered that Oliver wasn't, in fact, the Green Arrow and that she'd kissed a complete stranger, but she'd consoled herself with the thought that at least he'd been a damn good kisser.

"Lois!" the Green Arrow cried as he broke off the kiss. "I –"

But she wasn't listening. Letting out a strangled cry, she pulled back, whirling away from him. "Damn it!" she scream, storming a few feet away. "I can't…why…Why is he _haunting_ me?" Turning back around to face him, she cried, "I can't stop thinking about…he's everywhere! Do you have any idea what that's like? Every time I turn around…everywhere I go…he's there and I just…I can't take it anymore! I feel like…I feel like I'm losing my mind, and I can't bear it! I can't seem to escape him! Even when I kiss you, I…"

She broke off, pressing her palms to her eyes. Her shoulders bowed in defeat and began to shake with the force of the sobs she refused to let loose. "I wish I could find a way to hate him," she admitted in a ragged whisper. "Because then maybe I could find a way to live with myself for having killed him."

* * *

"Oh, my god," Clark cried aloud in response to her words. It was too much. He had been standing in impotent silence, trying to find the words to tell her that he was alive. He'd wanted to break the news to her gently, to beg for her forgiveness as he explained everything to her in a way that would soften the shock of his news. He'd been trying to find a way to tell her without losing her.

But now, hearing her words, he realized he couldn't take it any longer. He still hadn't thought of the right words to explain things to her, but maybe there _weren't_ words for a situation like this. Maybe he'd never come up with a way to tell her the truth about himself without hurting her in the process. He had to tell her now, even at the risk of losing her, because regardless of the potential consequences to himself, he could bear to see her in pain no longer.

In a quick move, he ripped his sunglasses off and tore back the hood to his jacket. "Lois, look at me," he demanded, but she didn't even lower her hands so he tried again, taking a couple tentative steps toward her. "Please…Lois…look at me. I…You didn't kill me!" As he finished speaking, Lois looked up and stared straight into his face. Then she let out a shriek, and though he doubted she could hear him – or was listening – he continued, "I'm so sorry; I never meant to hurt you. But I'm not dead."

He saw the blood drain from her face as she paled suddenly, and it was only due to his extraordinary speed that he was able to reach her side and catch her as, for the first time in all the years he'd known her, Lois fainted.

* * *

Lois moaned softly as her eyes fluttered open. "Clark?" she whimpered. Levering up onto her elbows, she looked blearily around, the expression on her face clearly indicating that she expected to find herself alone.

But, no, he was there, at the foot of the couch upon which he had gently placed her after her faint. When she caught sight of him gazing sadly at her, she gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "Clark?" she repeated, this time in a whisper of disbelief. "I-Am I imagining things?"

Clark sighed heavily. "It's me, Lois," he assured her gently. "You aren't imagining anything." The words hadn't finished leaving his mouth before Lois was scrambling forward, hurling her body against his chest with a force that took him by surprise, almost unbalancing him from his perch on the arm of the sofa. When she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, he could feel her body's trembling and the ragged breath fanning against his skin, and he tightened the hold he hand on her, bringing her close. He knew the moment wouldn't last, but while he had her in his arms – and before he was faced with the consequences of his stupidity – he savored the moment.

His hands trembled where he'd splayed them across her back, and his eyes shut automatically as he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her hair and skin, the brush of her breath against his neck, the familiar fit of her body against his own.

"Clark! Oh my god, Clark!" she was saying, repeating is name over and over like a mantra. Finally, she pulled away slightly, though not far enough that he was forced to release his hold on her. Framing his face with her palms, she stared intently into his eyes. "Is it really you?"

He offered her a small, reassuring smile. "It's really me."

Her eyes roved quickly over his face as if she was trying to memorize every feature. "But…I don't understand…I saw…" Clark's first instinct was to stay her hand when she reached for the zipper to his jacket, but he resisted the urge to do so. He knew Lois; she wanted to know the truth – needed to know it – and she wouldn't stop until she had it. Besides, he had already resolved himself to telling her everything, so it didn't matter if he broached the subject or if he allowed her to do so in her own fashion.

With a hard tug, Lois undid the zipper, causing the two panels of green leather to part. Clark held his breath as he waited, his eyes never leaving Lois's face as she stared avidly at the bare skin she was slowly revealing. When the jacket was fully unzipped, she pulled it open and stared at the unmarred flesh of his chest.

Clark sucked in a sharp breath when she trailed her fingertips gently across the area where his wound had been. He might have saved himself the effort, however, when Lois looked up into his face a moment later and the tightness in his chest made it impossible to breathe. "But you were shot!" she cried, not removing her hand from its position on Clark's chest. "I…I saw it! You were shot, and you bled to de- I saw the wound!"

Through the tightness in his chest, Clark managed a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, of that he had no doubt. "I know how hard this is to believe, Lois, but…I healed. When I was in the warehouse, I was…"

In the next moment, before he could finish, Lois placed both palms against his chest and shoved hard, throwing her weight backwards. By the time he realized he should reach out to stop her, it was too late; she was out of his reach. When he glanced at her face in surprise, his heart twisted. She looked terrified as she scrambled over the armrest at the far end of the sofa, landing hard on the floor on the other side.

With the entire length of the sofa between them, Clark watched as her gaze shot desperately around the room as if searching for something. "Who are you really? _What_ are you?" she demanded harshly. Rising slowly to his feet, he moved to approach her, but he paused when she shifted her stance into a defensive position. "Stay back! I'm warning you; don't come any closer!"

"Lois, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to explain…" he began reassuringly, but she cut him off.

"Are you a clone?" she demanded.

Thrown by the sudden question, Clark paused and asked in bewilderment, "What?"

She didn't seem to be taken aback by his surprise. "A clone! Are you a clone? Or a…a…" she stammered, clearly wracking her brain. "A shapeshifter? Are you a…do you have meteor powers?" she demanded, her eyes locked searchingly on his face.

That was when Clark made a grave mistake. For two days, he'd longed to hold the woman in front of him. He'd wanted to comfort her, to confess everything to her, to protect her from further harm. And now, having her in front of him, the bruises on her face standing out in sharp relief against her complexion that had gone suddenly pale the moment he'd removed his sunglasses and hadn't yet recovered its color, he found it impossible to stay still and keep his distance. So he took a step toward her, and his ill-advised movement galvanized her into action.

"No!" she screamed, and he ducked instinctively when Lois grabbed an object and threw it at his head as, in a fluid motion, she whirled and bolted toward the exit. The woman who Clark could have pictured going toe-to-toe with the Devil turned and fled at the very sight of Clark's face, and he grimaced at the realization of how much he had to have hurt her to elicit such an uncharacteristic reaction.

"Lois!" he cried, darting after the woman who was bolting down the stairs. When she lost her footing and stumbled down a few steps, he heard her yelp as she reached out with her right hand and stayed her fall, wrenching her already injured shoulder. Though Clark wanted to race to catch her, he'd learned his lesson and realized he was going to have to give her space. Plus, he worried that any more sudden revelations might give her a heart attack. So, instead of following after her like he wanted to, Clark stayed at the top of the landing and called down to her, "You love it when it rains!"

She paused on the landing below and turned slowly to face him, momentarily delaying her mad dash down the final few steps to safety. "What?" she asked softly.

"You love it when it rains," he repeated more quietly. "You particularly love thunderstorms." She didn't believe he was who he claimed to be, so he was going to have to prove it to her. When she stood in silence, staring at him, he shifted his weight to lean heavily against the railing and continued, "You…you always think of your mom when it snows, because she used to make you a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows when you came in from the cold." He was on a roll now, and he couldn't seem to keep himself from furthering his list.

"You have a scar on your right elbow that you got when you were six years old and Steven Dorsey bet your sister she was too scared to climb to the very top of a tree. She tried and got stuck, and you went after her. But you scraped your arm on a nail driven into one of the branches when you were climbing back down, bad enough that it required stitches." She had turned to face him fully now, so he took a tentative step toward her, gauging her reaction as he did so. Though her expression wavered a bit, she didn't bolt, so he stepped down to the top step and continued.

"As soon as you made it down, you walked up to Steven Dorsey and punched him in the nose." He took another step down. "The General grounded you for a week, and Steven Dorsey tried to steal a kiss from you on the playground a few months later."

Another step. "You show this tight, forced smile to the rest of the world, but when you're with friends or people you care about, your smile…it's the most beautiful…it's breathtaking."

And then he was standing in front of her. Almost whispering, he concluded his litany, "You claim not to have a romantic bone in your body, but you cry when you watch sappy movies. You dream of dancing in the arms of…of dancing with the man you love. When you turned twelve, your father sent you a dozen roses with a note that said that even though he knew he wouldn't be the last, he wanted to be the first man to give his girl a dozen roses. And even though you later discovered that one of the Army wives put him up to it, you're still waiting to get those flowers from somebody else. Except that you don't want roses, you want lilies because they…"

"Clark," she said softly, and somehow that one little word was enough to silence him. But, then again, he'd never heard anyone say his name the way she did, and I wasn't until relatively recently that he realized he didn't want to.

"It's really you! I-I can't believe it! But how…?" she demanded, and she was touching him again, running her fingers over the planes of his face, across his leather-clad shoulders, down his bare chest.

Trapping one hand beneath his own, he held it tight to his bare chest, feeling a jolt of surprise as his stomach tightened at the warmth of skin against his own. "I'll explain everything to you, Lois, but it's complicated. Maybe you should sit down while I explain it." And then, with her hand in his, he lead her back up the stairs to the couch and waited for her to get comfortable before he began.

Perching on the far end of the couch, Clark angled his body to face hers. When he met her eyes, he took a deep breath to brace himself and said, "Lois, in the warehouse, I did get shot, but I…I didn't…I healed before the explosion."

"So…you're like Chloe, then?" she asked in confusion. "You've been affected by the meteor rocks? You heal quickly?" She looked so concerned for his welfare, the expression on her face made her thoughts so evident, it was almost as if he could almost read her mind. She thought he just discovered his meteor abilities, and so she was probably also convinced he was confused and a little afraid about everything that had happened. His suspicion was confirmed when she grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, Clark. We'll figure this out. I know this has to be pretty scary for you right now, but…"

He couldn't take her concern any longer, not when he knew it wasn't deserved. "No, Lois…you don't understand. I'm not…I haven't been affected by the meteor rocks – at least not the way you think." She was looking at him in confusion again, but he couldn't bear to look in his eyes as he continued. He wasn't sure he could stand to see her reaction; what if she looked at him in revulsion? Letting his gaze fall to the ground, he explained awkwardly, "I'm…um…I'm an alien."

A heavy silence fell as soon as the words left his mouth and he winced. When he finally raised his eyes to meet Lois's again, he saw that she had a peculiar expression on her face. Her head was tilted to the side, and she found him with a perplexed look as the corners of her lips twitched with what appeared to be a poorly disguised mirth. Finally, she spoke, "Good one, Smallville. You know, I can imagine it's gotta be a little weird to find out you have special abilities, but that's no reason to jump to the conclusion that you're from a whole different planet. This one's strange enough."

Clark frowned and swallowed heavily. "It's true," he said simply. She still seemed skeptical, so he offered, "I can do things!" That sounded lame, even to his own ears. "I mean, I have abilities. There are a lot of things I can do that other people can't."

Now she looked frankly bemused. "Like heal yourself?" she suggested.

"No. Well, yes. I mean, I guess. In a way. It's…it's the Sun. My powers…those things that I can do…they come from the Sun." He was explaining the entire situation badly, he knew, and he groaned. No wonder she seemed to think humoring him was the best policy.

Maybe he'd do a better job with a demonstration instead of an explanation. "Come on," he said, standing abruptly and offering her his hand. "I'll show you." After a second, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet, a skeptical expression still marking her features. Before she even had time to settle her weight, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her weight easily.

"Woah, there, Sparky! You're getting a little..uh…familiar there, aren't you?" she yelped, though she wrapped her arms around his neck as she did so. "I really think you should put me down now!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he replied gravely. "If I let you go now, you'd probably get hurt." With a small nod, he indicated the ground beneath his feet. Only it wasn't beneath his feet any longer, and when Lois realized that, she let out a strangled shriek and clutched him tighter. When he saw the incredulous look she shot him, he forestalled her protest by saying, "It's not a trick, Lois. I can fly. I'm strong, I'm fast, and I can hear someone sneezing on the other side of town." As he spoke, he floated back to the ground and placed her gently on her feet. Her arms stayed around his neck, however, and he wondered if that was intentional or if she'd merely forgotten she'd been clinging to him in her understandable shock over his revelations. "And I'm pretty much invulnerable."

"Then how did you…?" she began before her voice trailed off.

With a sad smile, he explained, "There is one thing that makes me vulnerable, that can kill me, and that's radioactive pieces of my home world. My planet – Krypton – it's gone. Those pieces of rock are all that's left."

"The meteor rock," she murmured as comprehension dawned.

With a nod, he confirmed her guess. "I came here in the first meteor shower, and Mom and Dad found me and raised me as their own. Lois, that day at the warehouse, there were green meteor rocks nearby. Kryptonite. That's why I seemed to be sick and why the bullet managed to penetrate my skin. I almost died."

She was biting her lip now as she mulled it over, and very slowly, she removed her arms from around his neck and ran her palms down his still-bare chest. "So…these last couple of days…you've been…recovering?" she asked thoughtfully.

The moment he'd been dreading had arrived, but his gaze didn't waver from hers as he said, "When I've been exposed to Kryptonite, I usually heal almost instantly as soon as I get away from it."

He could almost see the moment Lois filled in the blanks and realization dawned. All expression drained from her face and she fixed him with a stony glare. "So…where have you been, Clark? You had to have known I would be…that is, that Chloe and I would be…oh, god! Chloe!"

Struck by the sudden thought, Lois shot to her feet and whirled on him. "Okay, I don't begin to pretend that I understand what's going on here; it's a lot to take in. But, Clark, you have to tell Chloe that you're alive!" Clark opened his mouth to speak, but she steamrolled him. "No! No arguments! I get why you'd want to keep your particular…uh…situation secret, but she's one of your best friends and you've known each other for years! You have to tell her the truth!"

Stepping forward, Clark rested his palms on her shoulders and said reassuringly, "It's okay, Lois. Chloe already knows."

He felt her shoulders heave with a heavy sigh. "Oh, thank god. I can't imagine how she…it had to be such a shock. Is she okay? Maybe I should go check on her. Do you think she took the news okay?"

She sounded so concerned, Clark wanted to reassure her, but he didn't know how. Lois was going to be upset, and there was probably not going to be any chance to avoid hurting her further without compounding his lies. At the same time, he wished there was a way he could prevent her from the hurt that would come when she realized everyone she loved had lied to her. So he stared at her in silence as he tried to find the perfect words.

Unfortunately, Lois knew him too well, because he never got the chance. She was staring intently into his face, and something in his expression must have revealed more than he'd intended because she sucked in a sharp breath and demanded in a low voice, "Clark, when did Chloe find out you were alive?"

"We never meant to hurt you, Lois!" he blurted in a feeble attempt to soften the blow.

She placed her palms on his chest and gave him a firm shove as she simultaneously stepped out of his reach, increasing the distance between them. "When?" she demanded again.

He tried once more. "As crazy as it sounds, we thought we were…we just wanted to protect you!"

"Clark, when?" she cried fiercely, her eyes flashing.

Unable to delay any longer, Clark confessed. "Chloe met my mom and I at the airport a few minutes after you called from the hospital. That was when I told her everything that had happened at the warehouse." After a brief pause, he added, "She's known my secret for a few years now."

When Clark finished speaking, he braced himself for the fallout. He could imagine her reacting in several different ways – most of them less than encouraging. He expected her to be angry and hurt. He didn't expect her to laugh.

But that's what she did. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she doubled over as she gave in to the hysterical peals of laughter. "She knew!" she wheezed through her guffaws. "All this time…!"

He didn't fool himself for a moment into thinking she wasn't hurt or angry. This was just her first reaction, the calm before the storm. "We didn't want to lie to you, Lois," he said loud enough for his voice to carry over her renewed chuckles. "You have to understand, we had reason – have reason – to believe that your life is in danger. You'd already been through so much, we didn't want to put you in any more danger than you're already in! I knew you'd be upset…"

"Upset?" she barked, her laughter cut abruptly short as she straightened suddenly, her eyes flashing with undisguised anger. "Now why would I be upset?"

No, looking at her face, Clark realized that he'd been wrong. Lois wasn't angry. She was livid. Unequivocally furious. "I…uh…I know this is a lot to take in, but…"

"Oh, do you?" she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. "And which part is it, exactly, that you think I'm having trouble accepting? That my best friend is from Neptune?" Clark decided now wasn't the moment to correct her. "Or do you think it's maybe _possible_ that the shock of finding evidence of alien life on Earth has been ever so narrowly surpassed by the realization that my best friend _let me think he was dead_?" Her voice rose to a shrill scream.

Lois stood before him, panting slightly, her body trembling with rage. There was absolutely nothing he could do to make her feel better. When he'd made the decision to keep the truth from her, he'd known she was going to be hurt when she eventually found out what he'd done – and it had never been his intention to keep the truth from her indefinitely. Still, though he'd known there would be repercussions, at the time, he'd made the determination that her safety was more important. In that respect, he couldn't regret his decision; he'd do anything he had to in order to keep her from harm. In the present moment, however, he recognized that this justification was hardly likely to sway her. There was absolutely nothing he could do save to say sincerely, "I'm sorry."

"Well, why don't you say so? That makes it all better!" she snarled.

Though he knew it wouldn't make any difference right now, Clark tried once again to explain, "We…I found out that there were…there was reason to believe the two men from the warehouse were trying to find you. I thought your life might be in danger. You can hate me now, Lois, but I did what I thought I had to do to keep you safe. We have no idea who was behind Peter William's murder, and I didn't think they knew for sure that it was you in that warehouse, but I suspected you were being watched. I didn't want to do anything to draw any more attention to you than was absolutely necessary."

She was silent for a moment. "You do realize that's a load of crap, don't you?" she finally asked in a surprisingly mild tone. It didn't last long. "You lied to me to protect me? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! How was keeping the fact that you've been alive this whole time supposed to protect me?"

When she put it like that, it did sound kind of stupid, but it was easier to criticize his decisions in retrospect. At the time, faced with the prospect of putting her in greater danger, he'd done the only thing he could think of to keep her safe. "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense now, but at the time…" he began before she cut him off.

"You think?" she snarled sarcastically.

Clark was growing desperate. He felt like she was slipping through his fingers, like if he didn't get through to her now, he might not ever be able to do so. "Lois, what do you want me to say? What can I do to convince you that I never wanted to hurt you; I just wanted to protect you!"

She sounded bewildered as she repeated, "What can you say? What can you _say_? You don't get to fix this, Clark! You can't just say you're sorry and make everything okay! Do you get that? Do you get that I thought you were dead?

"I thought you died! I thought I had killed you! Do you have any idea what that feels like? I thought…I thought…" she broke off with a sob, which she stifled by covering her face with her hands.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said finally, her voice flat and emotionless as she pulled her hands away. "But how can you lose something you never had? I thought you were my best friend…but I never really knew you at all, did I?"

She moved to brush past him, clearly intending to leave, and Clark decided to make one more desperate attempt to get her to listen to him. "Lois, please…" he said, reaching for her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she cried suddenly, giving his hand a sharp slap before he could lay it on her arm. "You don't get to touch me!"

With reluctance, Clark slowly pulled his hand away and repeated in a pained murmur, "Lois…please…you're my best friend, and I know I made a mistake but I don't want to lose you."

At the head of the staircase, Lois paused and turned to look at him once more. "We're not friends, Clark. I don't know that we ever have been. I don't care if you're from Metropolis or Mars. I do care that you…you let me think you were dead. You had to know what that would do to me, and you let me do it anyway. Do you have any idea…? I would never have done that to you, Clark. _Never_. As your friend, I never would have put you through that. But you could. You did. And now you want me to forgive you for it and pretend everything's okay? I'm sorry, Clark, but I just don't work that way.

Before she turned to leave for good, she said earnestly, "I'm glad you're alive, Clark. But I never want to see you again."


	13. Chapter 13: The Best of All Lost Arts

**Chapter 13: The Best of All Lost Arts**

"I love what you've done with the place." The wry voice broke into Lois's thoughts as she knelt on the floor, and she tilted her head back so she could glare at her new visitor.

"Lex Luthor," she greeted him in a flat, wry tone. It was a testament to the kind of week that she'd been having that, after everything that had happened, seeing him today almost seemed like the icing on top of the cake. First, she'd found out that all the people she was closest to in the world had lied to her about something as major as her best friend's present status as a living being. Then she'd come home and seen the sad state of the first place she'd ever really had to call her very own – the first place she'd ever lived that wasn't a bunker, the back seat of a car, a bedroom she'd taken over after booting the man who would one day be her best friend to the couch, or an apartment she'd taken over after that same ex-best-friend's ex-girlfriend moved out. She had just begun to try to come to terms with the fact that the intruders had left nothing untouched when she was suddenly granted with the dubious pleasure of Lex's company. "Why am I not surprised? It's like I've won the Trifecta," she grumbled, more to herself than to him.

Lex strolled into the room as if he owned the place, and that alone would have given Lois the temptation to find a new apartment and relocate, even if she wasn't looking over the destruction of everything she owned. He didn't say anything as he looked over the devastation, so she decided to fill the silence. "Looking over your handiwork?" she asked offhandedly.

Lex turned and looked at her with a combination of surprise and – she'd almost swear – amusement. "You think I did this?" he asked.

"Not you personally, no. I doubt you'd ever stoop to getting your hands dirty unless there was absolutely no alternative. But do I think you're capable of paying someone to do your dirty work for you? Absolutely." It was a statement of fact, not an accusation, though she noticed that he hadn't exactly denied her previous allegation.

"And what would I possibly stand to gain from hiring someone to do something like this?" he countered, clearly trying to sound affronted but failing miserably. But, then again, Lois doubted he'd ever been very good at pulling off that whole innocent act.

With a snort, she replied wryly, "I honestly can't say that I understand most of what goes through your head at any given time, Lex, and that very fact makes it marginally easier for me to sleep at night." Sighing heavily, she dropped the shard of glass she'd been examining (it had once been part of a figurine that Chloe had given her for her birthday two years prior) and rose slowly to her feet. "What do you want?"

He still hadn't stopped in his slow circuit around the room, and she watched as he circled the perimeter and looked around in mild interest. She saw him bend over to scoop up a picture frame that had once sat on her mantle, and he stared at its empty window with a small frown before responding, "Maybe I was worried about you and thought I'd come by to see how you're doing."

Lois repressed the urge to snort again, though she did roll her eyes. "Right. You've been up all night, just sick with worry over me," she drawled sarcastically. "Why do I have a hard time believing that?"

"You're a very cynical woman, has anyone ever told you that?" Lex retorted in lieu of responding to her question, and she shrugged in reply.

She shook her head. "No. I'm a realist." Suddenly tired, she heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Lex…I know that this couldn't possibly interest you less, but as incredible as it is to believe, I've had a very long couple of days. I'm exhausted, I have a lot of cleaning ahead of me, and I just…I'd like to be alone."

Apparently deciding he'd exhausted his interest in the ruins of Lois's life, Lex turned and approached her. When he stood in front of her, he slipped his hands in the pockets of his black trenchcoat and offered her a small shrug. "Very well. I came to tell you that a number of gossip columnists have expressed interest in our new 'relationship'. Everyone knows that I never give interviews, but I thought you might want to give one or two. It might help preserve the illusion that we are, in fact, romantically involved."

"Oh…uh…right," she mumbled her agreement. Truth be told, in light of her recent discovery, she'd completely forgotten about the deal she'd made with Lex the day before. Now, however, the memory came back with a vengeance, and she winced. What a mess she was in.

Of course, her companion wasn't blind, and he noticed her reaction. "Something the matter?" he asked lightly, though his gaze sharpened on her face, and he studied her features intently.

Lois sighed. "No," she lied, her eyes darting around the room as she searched for inspiration for a way out of the mess she'd created. After all, she could hardly say, 'well, yes, as a matter of fact. I've just discovered that the murder I've been investigating isn't a murder at all, and now I have no reason to subject myself to your company. So if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just opt out, thanks.' When she looked up and met his eyes, however, she saw the speculation there and she knew she was going to have to try harder to explain her sudden reluctance. Biting her lip, she looked away again, and her voice faltered as she tried to explain, "It's just…I don't know that this is such a good idea."

Lex's lip curled up in a smirk. "Having second thoughts?" he taunted her. "Now I have to wonder, why the change of heart? You seemed so determined to find Clark's murderer yesterday." She heard him move closer, and she gulped, though she still couldn't quite make herself meet his eyes. She was afraid her own would betray too much. She knew she couldn't hide much longer, however, because he placed his fingers under her chin and gently tilt her face back until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "What happened, Lois?"

Though her features crumpled for a second, she did her best to regain her composure. "Nothing happened, Lex," she said, and she was surprised to find that her voice was steady. "I just…I realized that you were right. I never mattered to Clark at all. And I can't say at this point that I see the point in risking my life for someone who never gave a damn about me."

Lex's amusement didn't even falter. "Lois, I'm impressed. I never imagined you the mercenary type. All your big talk about heroes and the importance of doing the right thing…but I suppose you're only interested in justice so long as you get something in return. I was impressed by your passion yesterday, but now that you've come to realize the simple truth that Clark never would have loved a woman like you, you're willing to let his killer walk free."

Lois winced again. "You…you've got the wrong idea, Lex. It's not like that. It's just…" But she didn't finish her thought because it did sound remarkably like that. Sure, she was hurt to find that her best friends had let her believe that Clark was dead, but regardless of whether or not he had been murdered, his hadn't been the only body left behind at that warehouse. Peter Williams had died, as well – not to mention the innocent employees of LuthorCorp who stood to lose so much from these acts of sabotage.

Lex was still staring at her intently, and she couldn't find the words to explain. In silence, he ran his hand down the line of her neck and rested his fingers on her collarbone before saying softly, "You don't need to explain anything to me. I'm hardly going to judge you for looking after your own self-interests. I simply thought that Clark meant more to you than that."

"He did," she said softly because it was true. Though she wanted desperately to lie to herself about that very fact, self-deception had never been one of her strong suits, and the pain over his betrayal was still too fresh for her to be able to hide it from the rest of the world.

"Clearly," he agreed in a dry tone of voice. Then, with a heavy sigh, he stepped back. "There's a party tonight at the Mansion. If you change your mind, be there by eight. If not…I'll take care of the gossip rags; I'm pretty sure it won't take very long for this new cycle to die. But you'll never get an opportunity like this again."

Lois nodded. "I know," she said softly, her gaze dropping to the ground again. She had never felt so lost or so tired. Hatred, rage, vengeance – those had been the only things keeping her going these last couple of days, the only things she'd had to hold on to. She would have argued they were even the only things keeping her sane, but she'd felt her grasp on sanity had become tenuous at best, from the moment she woke up in the hospital and was disappointed to find out she wasn't dead. But now she didn't have any of these things any more, and she didn't know what to do. It felt like she was not only deprived of her best friend, but he'd left her with nothing else to hold on to.

Though she felt his eyes on her, she didn't look up to meet his gaze. Instead, she just waited in weary silence, wishing he would take pity on her just this once and just leave. She needed time to process everything that had happened in the last few hours, and she wasn't going to get that with him around. "You're tired, and you've been through quite an ordeal in the last couple of days," Lex said finally, and if it wasn't for the fact that she knew he reciprocated the same loathing she felt for him, she would almost have thought he was actually concerned for her. "I can understand why you'd want to walk away and pretend none of this ever happened, but I'm sure you know that's not going to accomplish anything. Nothing you do can bring Clark back or change the fact that he never loved you."

"I'll take it from someone who should know," she snapped, irritated that Lex felt the need to constantly remind her of how little she'd meant to Clark. But of course he did. Show an open wound to Lex, and it was a fair bet he'd be unable to resist the urge to rub a little salt in it.

"You should," he replied, sounding remarkably unconcerned by her brief display of venom. "Anyway, I have some things to take care of for tonight's party; don't forget, eight o'clock. If, of course, you decide you haven't been lying all this time and that you actually are the person you tried so hard to convince Clark you were." He paused, then added. "If you do come, you might plan on staying for a while. Given your present circumstances, I doubt anyone would think it odd that I asked you to move in with me, and it would certainly reinforce the idea that we're in a serious relationship. I can have a room set up for you at the Mansion – at least until our charade is over, and I'll have some of my people get you anything you might need…including appropriate clothing."

Her head shot up, and she looked at him in shock. "I would rather die," she spat, and for a moment, she felt like her old self again.

Lex smiled, looking both haughty and pleased as only Luthors could do. "You don't have to, Lois. Clark did that for you." When he walked out, he took that tiny bit of her herself that she'd almost regained with him.

Left alone once more, Lois sighed and rubbed her forehead, looking around the room in thinly tempered despair. How did things get so totally and completely out of her control? A week ago, she'd had almost everything she'd ever wanted and was at least as happy as she was ever likely to get, but now she was left with nothing. No friends. No options. And probably not even enough of her stuff remained intact to fill up the back seat of her car. With a wry smile, she reflected that she'd thought she was doing so much better, getting her life on track, but she'd actually been better off a couple years ago, when she _was _living out of her back seat. At least back then, she may not have had stability, but she had Clark…The Kents, she corrected herself. She'd had the Kents. And Chloe.

"No point dwelling over what you can't change, Lane," she muttered to herself before turning toward the kitchen to grab a few trashbags. As she scooped up the detritus of her former life and threw it away, she tried to bear in mind that she'd never really needed all that clutter anyway. This way, it would take her very little time at all to pick up and move – and maybe it was well past time for her to consider doing so. She used to be happy with her transitory-style life; she never used to let herself get too attached to the people around her, since she'd known she'd not be along long. It would figure the one time she let her guard down, it would bite her in the ass.

Lois had just bent over to grab a tattered scrap of cloth that had once been part of her favorite sweater when she heard a footfall in her doorway again. "Look, I told you I'd get your answer by eight, but I'm not…" Then she looked up and saw that it wasn't Lex in her doorway; it was Chloe. "Oh," she said shortly and returned her attention to her task. She had to set her jaw to restrain the urge to say something more; she'd been hoping to put off this particular confrontation until she had her temper a bit more in check – if that ever happened.

"Oh my god, Lois…what happened here?" the younger girl asked incredulously as she stepped into the room and looked around in amazement.

"I thought I'd try my hand at redecorating. Why, what does it look like?" Lois retorted snidely. She was no longer really looking at the things she was throwing away; the anger she felt towards her cousin seethed just under the surface, and it was all she could do to keep her temper.

Apparently, Chloe realized as much, because she stopped gaping at the state of the apartment and turned her attention back to its primary occupant. "I was hoping we could…I mean, we need to talk."

"Now's not a good time, Chloe," Lois replied. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a little busy right now. I'm also in a bad mood, remarkably enough. I'll get over this…probably. But I'm not sure it's a good idea for the two of us to talk until I stop hating you quite so much."

She saw her companion flinch. "I know you're mad at me, but I really want to explain. I can't stand it that you're mad at me." She received no response, but only because Lois thought it would be just a little cruel for her to reply that that was just tough. In light of the absence of argument, Chloe continued, "You have to believe me! I never wanted to hurt you. _We _never meant to hurt you. I know you're mad about what we did, but we did what we thought was necessary at the time!"

Lois was losing control of her temper, and she really didn't want to do that right now, so she tried to get rid of her companion instead. "Great. That's lovely. That makes me feel so much better. Can you go away now?"

"Lois, we were only trying to protect you," Chloe said, clearly still trying to get Lois to listen to her. Lois didn't respond, however, so she said desperately, "You try to protect me all the time! If the situation was reversed and you didn't see any other option, you would have done the same!"

Lois threw the bag she'd been shoveling trash into on the ground and whirled on her cousin. "No," she spat angrily. "No, I wouldn't have, as a matter of fact. You're right! I try to protect you! I…I agree to take my clothes off on stage if that's what it takes to get you close to a story and so you don't have to do it instead! I give you a flash bomb for Christmas so you have it in case of emergencies! I'm willing to take on anyone who threatens you, whatever that takes! You know what I _don't _do? I don't let you think you killed your best friend! I don't let you think I've… I mean, what _is _it with you people? Is it a requirement, to live in Smallville, you have to fake your own death at least once?" she demanded as her brain shifted from one topic to another. "First you, Chloe, and then Lana, and now…!" She spluttered to a halt, so livid that she was having a hard time even making her point.

She began to pace back and forth, her fury rising, and suddenly all kinds of things she'd never said before came to the surface. "You know, Chloe, when you faked your death a couple years ago, I was _so understanding _about that! Your life was in danger, and the only way you could stay safe was to pretend to be dead, and I got that! I was even understanding about the fact that when you needed help, you didn't come to me; you went to Clark. And I was okay with that, because the only thing that was important was that you stayed safe, so I didn't care what it took to get you there!

"But now I think you…" she spluttered for a moment, shaking her head angrily. "I've been so angry at you for not…not knowing me well enough to know that lying to me wasn't going to solve anything, but you know what I think now? I don't think this has anything to do with you not knowing me. This is about you not trusting me!"

"Lois, don't be ridiculous!" Chloe interjected earnestly as she strode forward. "Of course I trust you! But this wasn't…this wasn't my secret to tell, Lois, and I know you're angry that you didn't know the truth about Clark sooner, but he asked me to keep his secret years ago, and it wasn't my place to tell anyone else about it! Not even you!"

Lois sighed heavily and rested her hands on her hips as she said, "I'm not talking about his secret, Chloe. Honestly, I don't care about that…or maybe it's just that with everything going on, I haven't had the chance to process it all. But I don't care about…this isn't about Clark; this is about you and me! Chloe, I stood there…I stood in your bedroom yesterday, and I begged you…I _begged _you!…to let me help you find who killed Clark. I _told _you what his death did to me. And you just…you stood by and you didn't do _anything_. You had to realize that I…that I thought I killed him, and you didn't do a damn thing about it!"

Chloe's eyes were wet with tears and she bit her lip as she said sadly, "Lois, I'm sorry. I know that I made a mistake, and I don't know what else to say. I never…I honestly didn't think…Maybe what I did was wrong, but I just did what I thought was best for you."

Lois was silent in contemplation of her cousin's words. Finally, she spoke, but when she did it was in almost sullen defeat. "You didn't do what you thought was best for me, Chlo. If you'd really had my best interests at heart, you would have stopped your charade yesterday, when I came to your house and made it clear that…Clark's death _destroyed _me, Chloe. And I have a hard time believing that you didn't realize that.

"This isn't about me at all, is it? It's about Clark." She paused, a wry smile on her face. "It's always about Clark."

"That's unfair!" Chloe protested, but, having had this epiphany, Lois wasn't willing to give up the floor until she'd followed her train of thought to the end.

"Is it?" she shot back. "I don't think it is. You had a crush on Clark for so long, and I was relieved that you finally seemed over it. I never asked you if that was true, and maybe that was my mistake. But after what I found out today…things just make so much more sense now! How many years did you spend pining over him, anyway? How much of your life did you put on hold so that you could be there for him at a moment's notice, whenever he needed, you, and to hell with the consequences? How many people have you put second, just so you were always free to put him first?"

Chloe's voice was shaking slightly and she seemed angry when she retorted, "Lois, that's not fair. This wasn't about Clark, and you know it!"

Lois's answering chuckle was devoid of humor. "Wasn't it?" Warming to the topic, she put her hand on her forehead and resumed her pacing back and forth, speaking aloud every realization that was suddenly clicking into place with a clarity that was almost painful For as much as she'd trusted Chloe and as often as she'd showed it, she was just now realizing that her trust had never been reciprocated. Chloe had only put her trust in her cousin when she'd had absolutely no alternative.

"I don't know; I think it was. I think you've spent so much time concentrating on Clark that you don't even necessarily realize that you're doing it anymore. You complain to me about the direction your career's taken and that you can't seem to get ahead at the paper, but how much of that could be due to the fact that I have absolutely no doubt you're willing to drop everything the moment Clark needs you. All those times I've come to visit you and Clark's been there, the two of you thick as thieves…and I'm not an idiot; I know when you're intentionally changing the subject because I've come into the room. Those weren't just social calls, were they Chlo? I know…or I thought I knew…Clark well enough to know that he has to try to save the world…and you were helping him, weren't you?"

Though Chloe still seemed angry, now she was defensive as well. "Clark's my friend. If he needed help, I was happy to give it. That's hardly a crime."

"No, you're absolutely right; it's not," Lois agreed. "But you know what is? I think you're glad to be that person that he runs to, Chlo, and you don't want to run the risk of anyone getting in the way of that. You push so many people away, people who care about you, because you don't want to run the risk of anyone getting between you and Clark, and you don't even bother to stop for a second to wonder whether or not they want to! Jimmy…Lana…me…I'm willing to bet that you don't even realize that you do it, but you've made it very clear to me – and I think probably to everyone else – that while there's parts of your life that you're willing to share with others, Clark Kent has never been and will never be on that list!" Because Chloe still looked mutinous and appeared about to argue the point, Lois carried on and didn't give her the chance, not until she'd said everything she suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to say. "And, you know, for someone who once tried to encourage me to think about journalism, do you have any idea the kind of attitude you've given me ever since I decided to take you up on the idea? Do you know why I think that is?"

Chloe looked angry and annoyed as she said, "I can't begin to imagine, Lois, but may I remind you that it's hard to get particularly enthusiastic about your career when your greatest claim to fame – your gate pass through the door of respectably journalism – is an article you wrote for the _Inquisitor _about _aliens_, for crying out loud! Pardon me if it's a little hard to get psyched about your career, but you're hardly out there doing hard-hitting exposés about corruption down at City Hall! I seriously doubt that your last story about a Bigfoot sighting is going to be winning you a Kerth Award, let alone a Pulitzer!"

Lois scoffed. "Says the person whose career was jumpstarted by an exploration of all that is strange and unexplainable in Smallville! Or did I misinterpret the whole purpose of the Wall of Weird? You're not upset that I'm thinking of getting into journalism, Chloe; you're worried that if I do, Clark might actually turn to someone else every once and a while, and you can't _stand _that idea!"

"You don't understand a damn thing, Lois! I don't love Clark anymore! I haven't for years, so this entire delusional theory you've got going on is just that! I know you're upset; you've been through a lot in these last couple of days. But that's no reason for you to talk about something you couldn't possible understand!" Chloe yelled, her hands in fists by her sides, her face red with fury.

"I never said you still loved him, Chloe; I said that you couldn't stand the thought of anyone getting as close to Clark as you are because you're afraid they'll supplant your place in his life! You want proof about all this? Let me ask you this. When you found out what I did…when you found out that I made a deal with Lex Luthor of all people, what was the first thought that ran through your head? Who was the first person you thought about? Tell me the truth; was your first thought really the danger I was in, or was it about Clark, how he would take the news?"

She'd been making a stab in the dark, but she knew she'd hit too close to home when Chloe stopped looking so angry and her expression became a little guilty instead. "I-I don't know what you…I don't remember what I was thinking; I was too shocked to think rationally about too much of anything!"

"Yeah. Right," Lois replied flatly as she turned on her heel and charged into her bedroom which she was unsurprised to find in a state similar to the living room. She felt angry, hurt, and alone, so she didn't stop to think too much about what she was doing as she stormed over to her closet and rummaged through the clothes that had been slashed and thrown on the floor. Finally, near the bottom of the pile, she found the object she was looking for and she snatched it up angrily before she stalked back to the living room and tossed it at her companion. "Here."

Lois felt a tiny pang of regret as she watched Chloe instinctively reach out to catch the object thrown at her and beheld the tattered red jersey cloth in bewilderment. For a moment, she was sorry for what she was doing, and she was tempted to race toward Chloe and snatch her prize back, to hide it away from the rest of the world and keep it to herself. Her own private memento, a secret she would share with no one. But instead, she tamped down those feelings and set her jaw, tilting it at a determined angle.

"I don't understand," Chloe said, sounding confused. "This is Clark's jersey. Why…?"

Ruthlessly squelching her sorrow at both relinquishing the object she'd prized so much and doing it in such a way that she knew her cousin would be hurt, Lois crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her companion. "It's what you've always wanted, right? A part of Clark. Well, it's yours now; you can take it. I don't want it anymore. You've spent so much time holding on to Clark, terrified that I was going to get in the way of that, and you never once stopped to wonder if I'd ever want to! You were my…you were closer to me than my own sister, and I knew how important Clark was to you! I _never _would have gotten in the way of that, regardless of what you thought!

"But you know what? It doesn't matter anymore; you can stop worrying about it. I took that shirt as a memento, so I would always have something to remember Clark by, but I don't want it anymore. Frankly, I wish I could just forget about the both of you." She couldn't take it any longer. After the last few days, after everything that had happened, Lois didn't think she could take another moment of any of it – not the destruction of her life, not the argument with her cousin, and not the proof of the betrayal by all the people closest to her. With one last glance around, she realized that there wasn't anything that was intact enough to take with her even if she felt the urge to do so. Without another word, she turned and grabbed her purse on her way to the door.

"Lois, what are you going to do now?" Chloe asked desperately from behind her. "You're not still going to…"

"What, work with Lex Luthor?" Lois interrupted, whirling to look at her cousin once more. "Of course I am. He still needs to be brought down, as does whoever's sabotaging the projects at LuthorCorp. Nothing's changed, not really. And don't look at me like that, Chloe. I'm not an idiot; I know what kind of man Lex is. I knew what kind of man he was before I proposed this scheme in the first place! But you know what's great about him? He's exactly what he appears to be. He's dangerous, and I know I'm putting my life in danger every minute I'm with him, but at least he doesn't pretend otherwise. He sure as hell doesn't pretend he cares about me when it's damn clear that he doesn't."

She didn't wait for a reply. As she stormed out, she grabbed the cell phone out of her pocket, flipped it open, and dialed a number. After a moment, she spoke tersely into the receiver. "Yes, Lois Lane here. Could you deliver a message for me? Tell Lex I'd be happy to attend the party with him this evening. Yes. I have to pick up a few things, but I'll be there soon." 


	14. Chapter 14: Between the Devil and the

**A/N: **As I swore to my beta, I've...uh..._totally_ been studying for finals. Honest! I just...er...needed a bit of a breather and this is what happened! I hope everyone enjoys my latest contribution.

**Chapter 14: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

Lois took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her stomach as if doing so would calm the butterflies that were ricocheting around, making her feel slightly nauseated. She could do this. She was Lois Lane, daughter of General Lane; she'd faced down everything from generals to diplomats and had never once backed down. This, by comparison, was nothing, right? It was just a party. At the Luthor Mansion. Where she had to hang on Lex's arm all night. And pretend she was crazy about him. While her heart lay in broken pieces all the while.

"What am I doing?" she whimpered and started to turn to race back up to the bedroom Lex's staff had prepared for her, where she thought it might behoove her to hide out for the next two or three…years. She'd only taken a couple staggered steps toward the staircase, however, when she paused and rested against the warm wood paneling of the wall, taking a few deep breaths as she tried to quell her nerves.

"You can do this, Lane," she whispered fiercely to herself, ashamed and annoyed by her brief spurt of cowardice. She thought of all the reasons why she had to go into that room tonight and pretend to be the current Lex Girl. There was Peter Williams, whose body had no doubt been obliterated beyond recognition in that explosion at the warehouse, liking leaving his family nothing more than ashes to bury. There were the people who worked at LuthorCorp, whose jobs were on the line if the company's troubles continued. There was Lex himself, who wasn't Lois's favorite person by any means, but whose life could be in danger if his saboteur's obsession continued. Lois didn't like the man – she thought he should be brought to justice for several reasons – but she didn't want him to be murdered. And…Lois sighed as she capitulated and accepted one final truth. There was Clark Kent himself. No, he hadn't died on the floor of that warehouse, but it was only by luck and grace that he'd survived. Another day, another man…another few seconds of exposure to radiated rock…and the story could very easily have ended differently. Lois couldn't afford to forget that, not that she stood much chance of doing so when it had not been so very long before that she'd been convinced that he _had _been murdered in such a fashion.

She'd spent the last couple of days feeling so lost, adrift in what had been an ocean of guilt and grief. It had seemed like an eternity that she'd felt she'd lost not just her best friend but a large part of herself in that random act of senseless violence; even now, she knew she wasn't back to the woman she had been a week before. If she ever was going to get back to the person she once had been – if she was ever to regain her sense of self – she wasn't going to do so by doing something so uncharacteristically Lois as running away from her problems, her fears, her choices. She was going to have to approach them head on.

With on last deep breath, Lois braced herself, squared her shoulders, and turned determinedly back toward the solid oak door panel from which she'd just fled. "You can do this, Lane," she murmured again, this time feeling ever so slightly more confident that the words were true.

At the door again, she paused, wondering if she should knock, but then she decided against it. She wasn't the type to wait on any man, least of all Lex Luthor. Instead, she grabbed the cold metal of the doorknob in one suspiciously clammy hand and, without any warning to any occupants inside the room, threw open the door.

He was there – of course he was there – standing with his back to her as he stared silently into the depths of the ever-present fire that was crackling softly in its grate, casting shadows that danced ominously (or was that just in Lois's head?) around the room. He didn't turn upon hearing her entrance, so Lois stepped forward and cleared her throat, wanting him to acknowledge her presence. Sure, she could have headed to the party without him, but that would undermine the image she was trying to project. So, like it or not, she was going to have to arrive on his arm.

A few more seconds passed before Lex moved, and Lois wondered if that was intentional on his part or not. She certainly wouldn't put it past him to have made her wait for the simple fact that it was in his power to do so. Finally, however, his head turned and he regarded the woman before him silently, his gaze roaming silently up her body and seeming to take in every inch of her appearance. She felt like fidgeting under the weight of his regard, and she didn't know if her sudden desire for movement was in line with running out of the room or with slapping that supercilious smirk off his face. For the sake of her dignity, she hoped it was the latter.

His eyes travelled from her midnight blue velvet shoes to the dress of the same color that clung to her body like a second skin. Past the diamond necklace and earrings he'd had sent to her room along with the garments he'd purchased her (there had certainly been nothing left intact at her own apartment that she could wear this evening, though were it not for the fact that even Lois balked at the idea of arriving naked to a formal party, she would never have consented to wear anything this particular Luthor purchased for her) and insisted she wear. She'd almost not done so, but she'd finally caved and slipped them on when she'd realized that they, too, would help cement the idea of her as Lex's girlfriend in the minds of all the other guests at the party. He stared in silent contemplation of the makeup she'd meticulously applied before his eyes travelled up to her loose French knot, with the tendrils of hair that escaped and fell to frame her face. He didn't appear to leave an inch of her body unstudied, and Lois felt naked, vulnerable, exposed by his examination. If there was one thing she didn't want to feel in front of Lex Luthor, it was vulnerable.

"I trust I pass your inspection?" she asked dryly, wanting to say more but keenly aware of the video cameras that no doubt trained on her this very moment. That reminded her; one thing she was going to have to mention to Lex at the first opportunity was that he stood to lose his life and his manhood if she discovered a single piece of recording equipment in her bedroom. Not only did she have no intention of letting him videotape her when she was in a state of semi- or complete undress, but she desperately needed one place to go where she didn't have to pretend to like him for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. And she knew there were plenty of people who could, would, or did have access to his not-quite-secure security system. As far as her investigation into the saboteur went, Lois had no reason to suspect any member of Lex's staff in particular, but she also knew the man in front of her hardly had a pristine track record when it came to being an excellent judge of character.

Though, she admitted to herself with a small wry smile, she was clearly hardly one to talk.

Lex held out his hands to her as he stepped forward. "My dear, you look…breathtaking," he said, and only someone who knew him as she did (or maybe loathed him as she did) would see the ironic tilt to his mouth as he said the words. As he stepped closer, however, his eyes narrowed and he said softly, a soft note of surprise in his voice, "You changed your hair."

Lois raised a self-conscious hand to her hair before nodding gently. It felt so strange, having her natural hair color back. She'd gone out earlier that day and bought the necessary hair dye, and she'd spent quite a while in her bathroom with the bottle of goo and the plastic gloves, trying to get the color even. Once she'd beheld the chocolate-brown locks in the mirror, she'd almost balked and raced out to get her tresses lightened again, but she'd narrowly refrained from doing so. She didn't want to be that girl any more – the aimless girl without aspirations in life, who had spent so many years travelling from one place to another, unwilling to let people get close to her. Until she finally let her walls down, letting people in, caring what they thought of her…and look where it had gotten her. No, her light brown hair – like her friendship with Clark (and maybe even Chloe) – was a part of her past now, to be mercifully, ruthlessly, left behind. It was time for her to grow up. "I did," she finally simply agreed.

"It looks…it suits you," her companion told her as he grabbed one of her hands and raised it to his lips. Perhaps, like she, he was only too painfully aware of the silent mechanical eyes that were watching.

"Thank you," she said, perhaps a bit too curtly. Softening her tone with a smile, she squeezed his hand and tilted her head to the door. "Should we go? I don't want to keep your guests waiting."

In another lifetime (as if she would ever be so stupid as to be taken in by this man) – so perhaps she should restate and say another woman might be taken in by the look he was giving her right now. He looked like he was thinking that if she _were _another woman, he'd suggest they keep the partygoers waiting. But she was nothing more or less that who she was, and so was he, so instead he nodded and agreed. "Of course, my dear. I can't wait to be the envy of everyone in the room tonight."

Lois had to give it to him. He may be a lying, cheating, murderous snake, but he was a very good actor. Then again, in order to hide his true self from the world, he'd have to be.

She let her hand stay where it was, tucked in his own, as he led her from the room.

Several hours later, Lois wondered anew at the wisdom of her plan. If this party wasn't the most unbearable experience of her life, it had to be up there on the list. It wasn't just pretending to be Lex's date that was difficult and painful – though that certainly got massive points. She hated having to bite her tongue, hide her thoughts, pretend to be someone she wasn't. She'd never liked doing it, never been good at it, and even knowing what was on the line didn't make the chore any easier.

Neither did it make it any easier to withstand the carefully veiled questions to put her by the paparazzi. She'd want to kill Lex for putting her in this position even if she liked him, so the fact that she didn't made restraining her temper especially hard.

"So, would you say that you've had these feelings for Lex for very long?" the woman in front of her was cooing, and Lois's eyes flickered toward the party once again. In an effort of self-preservation, she'd come to the conclusion that she could not look at this woman dead on, as there was something a little ridiculous about her, from her clearly botoxed features and her collagen-enhanced lips to the post-factory improvements she'd had done on her bustline.

"Oh, I can honestly say that I've had these feelings for Lex for a long time now," Lois replied with a forced smile as she snagged a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray. She didn't want to lay it on too thick, but she wanted to make it believable, so she added, "I can't imagine anyone ever wouldn't feel the way I do toward him!" Okay, so she wanted to make it believable. That didn't mean she'd suddenly developed the ability to outright lie.

"How interesting," the woman simpered, and Lois tried not to roll her eyes. "So, I understand you've just moved into the mansion…" Lois wanted to ask how she'd come upon this news, but she didn't ask. Maybe she didn't want to know. "Are there any other developments we can expect in the near future?" At Lois's clueless expression, the woman prodded, "I mean to ask…can we expect an engagement any time soon?"

Lois choked on the gulp of champagne she'd been downing when this particular question was lobbed her way, and she slapped herself repeatedly on the chest as she tried to gulp some air into her aching lungs. "I-I don't…we haven't…I can't even begin…" she wheezed through her coughs. "No!" she finally yelped when she had the air to do so. "I mean…I doubt it. It's…uh…it's a little too soon to be talking about that, and Lex and I…we've decided we want to take it slow."

Clearly thinking of the fact that Lois had moved into the mansion that very day, the woman's mouth twisted as she murmured, "Obviously."

Lois was just thinking of bolting to a safer corner of the room – not that there were likely to be many conversations to be had this evening that were at all safer in topic – when a man approached her on her left. "May I have this dance?" he asked, offering her a smile that was a tad too close to a leer for her taste. Or maybe she simply felt that way because his gaze hovered somewhere around the area of her cleavage and didn't seem to be inclined to travel anywhere else any time soon.

"Sure. Great. Yeah," she agreed, taking the hand he offered and all but dragging him onto the dance floor. A few minutes later, however, she wished she'd thought of a different method of escape. In his preoccupation with her breasts, he wasn't paying the closest of attention to his feet, and he'd already trodden on her toes three times. Plus, she swore that if his hands tried to travel south one more time, she was going to deck him. To top it all off, any hopes she might have entertained that this man might be able to give her any information that might be helpful in her investigation were quickly dispelled. Her dance partner was not only incredibly drunk, but he was clearly an idiot as well.

His behavior made her certainty on that matter abundantly clear. "So, you're Lex's new girl, huh?" he was asking her chest, and Lois had to stifle a snort of laughter when it occurred to her to wonder which of her breasts he was speaking to. "You know, he and I have been friends for a long time now." She only grunted in reply, as he stomped on her toe once again and the pain briefly robbed her of her ability to say more. "Say, listen. When it doesn't work out with him, you should give me a call. I'll show you a good time." Once again, she didn't speak, but this time it was because she was so flabbergasted by his forthright proposition that she couldn't find the words for a moment. Instead, she just stared at him in shock.

"What are you…you know, you're at his party! Don't you think it's a little rude to suggest that he and I…" she finally spluttered.

"What?" he asked, sounding faintly defensive, and his gaze finally lifted to her face. "Sorry to break it to you, Peaches, but girls never last very long with Lex. Not even girls with bodies as hot as yours."

Lois grabbed his roaming hand in an iron grip and repositioned it for what felt like the hundredth time. "Your concern is touching, I'm sure," she said acidly as she did so.

In his drunken state, he either didn't hear her heavy sarcasm or he didn't care, because he blundered ahead without stopping to ponder the wisdom of his next words. "It's okay, Hotlips," he murmured in a fashion that he no doubt considered comforting as he drew her closer. The alcohol on his breath slapped Lois in the face, almost causing her to stagger back a few steps. She might have done so, in fact, if her dance partner didn't have such an unyielding grip on her at the moment. "When Lex gets tired of you, you won't be left in the cold if you don't want to be. I may not have a mansion in Podunk, Nowheresville," his voice was so snide as he said it that Lois wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He was possibly the most insufferable man she'd ever met, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was painfully aware of the role she was trying to play – and the fact that Lex Girls _never _caused scenes in public – she'd happily make the evening as excruciating for the man in front of her as he was rapidly making it for her. In her efforts to quell temporary fit of blind rage, she didn't hear his next few thinly veiled propositions. She did manage to turn her attention back to him in enough time to hear him make a suggestion that was so explicit that not even Lois could believe he'd uttered it in public.

Oh, to hell with the part she was trying to play. She relished the grunt of pain he made when her knee jerked and rammed into a vital portion of his anatomy. "Thanks for the offer," she said sweetly as he doubled over in pain. "But I think I'll pass."

She barely noticed the stares of the other guests as she whirled on her heel and strode angrily toward the side door leading to the veranda. If she didn't get out of this room right now – if she didn't get some fresh air to clear he head – she was afraid she'd give in to the temptation to walk back to the groaning figure on the floor and finish the job.

She wasn't left alone for long. To her surprise, however, it wasn't Lex who joined her on the terrace, coming to chastise her behavior (though she had no doubt that such a conversation was coming). It was a complete stranger, and he didn't come to criticize her actions; he came to compliment them.

"Well, I have to say, that was incredibly refreshing," the softly spoken voice broke into her thoughts, and she had to consciously release the death-grip she had on the railing surrounding the veranda so she could turn and face her companion. She wasn't quite up to mustering a smile yet, but she figured it was too dark out for him to notice anyway. Though he was standing by the tall glass doors and the lights from the party flickered dimly through the windows, he also stood mostly in shadow, and she couldn't get a clear look at his face. He seemed unperturbed by the darkness, however, and when she'd turned to face him, he explained, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone give Bobby such a well-deserved put-down before."

Lois couldn't help her soft snort of laughter. "That Neanderthal a friend of yours?" she asked, her earlier tension starting to fade.

"Not exactly," her companion admitted. "But, at the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, that's the thing about having money. At a certain point, you find yourself going to the same parties and having exactly the same conversation with the same people you did the week before. And that means you don't get too many chances to make new acquaintances…no matter how boorish and insufferable your previous ones might be."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lois leaned back against the rail, her eyes peering into the darkness in an attempt to get a better look at her companion's face as she replied lightly, "You'll understand, I'm sure, if I have a hard time extending you too much pity."

Her companion let out a rueful chuckle. "The poor little rich boy act doesn't appeal to you, huh? Well, I can't say that I'm terribly surprised. I hope you won't take it the wrong way if I admit that I've watched you this evening, and you don't seem like the kind of woman Lex normally attracts."

She watched as he approached her. "And how is that, exactly?" she asked softly.

"I don't usually think very highly of the women who normally grace his arm," he said in lieu of an answer.

Lois let out a shaky laugh; he was standing so close to her now that she could feel his breath fan across her cheek, but she still couldn't really see his face. For some reason, that made her unaccountably nervous, but she was still leaning against the railing and had no means of retreat. "I'm flattered," she said, trying to hide her jitters. "At least, I think I am. You might be damning me with faint praise."

"Not at all, Miss Lane," he replied in kind.

She tensed, surprised that he knew her name. Then she remembered the way her name had already been splashed across the gossip rags in such a short amount of time, and she relaxed. Slightly. "That isn't very fair of you, you know. You seem to know my name, but I have no idea who you are."

A silence fell between them for a moment, and then she heard him answer softly, "Then I'll have to be sure to introduce myself at some point, but not right now. We don't have much time, and there's something I…" he paused, and she heard him take a deep breath. "I realize that you don't know me, and you have no reason to listen to me. But please believe that I have only your best interests at heart when I tell you that Lex Luthor isn't who you think he is."

He had her complete attention now, and her gaze sharpened on the shadows obscuring his face. What she wouldn't give for a full moon to suddenly appear in the sky; she could really use its light. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, trying to draw him out. Of course, plenty of people didn't like Lex Luthor, and there were likely more still who didn't trust him. By itself, the fact that the man in front of her was one of the throng wasn't terribly helpful; it wasn't even necessarily particularly noteworthy. It was, however, the first possible lead she'd come across since this entire fiasco had begun, and so she was going to jump on it.

"He's dangerous. He's hurt a lot of people, and I don't want you to be next," he said intently.

Was it really good intentions that had him trying to warn her off, or was it something more sinister? She didn't know, and it was frustrating that this was all so difficult. Was it too much to ask that the villain, whoever he might be, just call her up and tell her in a straightforward fashion, "Hello, I'm the person who's been trying to take down Lex Luthor. I had Peter Williams killed. And I had your best friend shot. I hope there are no hard feelings, but if there are, you can find me at this address."

"Is that a threat?" she asked softly. "Because you should know that I don't scare easily."

She heard a heavy sigh in the darkness. "It's a warning. It's up to you whether you take my words to heart or not."

She swallowed heavily, suddenly very aware that she was alone with this man she didn't know, and that the sounds of the party would probably mask any noise she made, if the need to cry out became apparent. Neither was it comforting to realize that her presence would hardly be missed, even if something bad did happen to her. But she was Lois Lane; she could take care of herself. And even when she couldn't, fear wasn't something she normally indulged, let alone advertised to the rest of the world. "I…appreciate your warning, but I didn't just leap into this relationship blindfolded or anything. I know exactly what kind of man Lex is."

When she heard the scrape of his shoe across the stone of the veranda, she knew he was stepping away from her, and she knew she couldn't just let him get away. "Wait!" she blurted abruptly. "You can't just throw an enigmatic warning at my feet and then just walk away!" But it was clear that he had, because when she held her breath in the silence, she realized that she was alone. Confused by the fact that she hadn't seen him cross over the lights spilling through the doors leading to the party, she kept her hand on the railing and followed it around until she came to a small flight of stone steps leading to the lawn. She didn't even bother to take them down, knowing that he'd be long gone by this point. However, it was worth noting that the man, whoever he'd been, had clearly known the layout to the terrace, as he didn't seem to have been at all hindered by the darkness when making his exit. That was interesting.

Still, it wasn't much to go on. "Damn it, Lane!" she muttered, furious with herself for letting her one good (maybe) lead escape. But who had that man been, and what was his purpose in warning her about Lex? Running over the conversation in her mind, she couldn't think of a single thing he'd said that might indicate his intentions to be anything other than what he'd stated them to be, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that maybe there was something more behind his words than he'd let on. So was he friend, or foe? For the moment, considering he'd gotten away from her, it didn't seem to matter.

She knew she should return to the party – her absence was no doubt conspicuous at this point – but she still didn't move. Instead, she rested her hands on the railing and tilted her head back, staring up at the billions of stars in the sky as she took a few deep, calming breaths. It was the first time all night that she'd really felt like she could _breathe_. The party, and Lex's company, had been suffocating before, and she'd desperately longed to escape. This was nothing more than a brief reprieve, she knew, but it was still better than nothing.

All those stars up there…and Clark was from one of them. She couldn't help it that he came to mind; she thought about him a lot more often than she'd care to admit. He'd said that his planet was gone, that those green pieces of meteor rock were all that was left, but she wondered if it was true. During those countless evenings that she'd spent by his side, staring up into the night sky, he'd explained to her that the light she was seeing was from objects billions of light years away. It took years for the light to travel across the vastness of space – so long, in fact, that some of those stars were long-dead by the time their light could be seen on Earth. She wondered if one of those little pinpoints of light she saw in the evening sky had travelled all the way from Krypton, the last trace of a planet that had burned out of existence long ago. Well…almost the last trace.

"Oh…Clark…," Lois whispered to herself, bowing her head once more to stare with sightless eyes at the ground instead. Why couldn't she just let him go? Why couldn't she just move on? She'd told him, hadn't she, that she never wanted to see him again? She'd told Chloe – and honestly, too – that she wished she could forget them both. She wanted to let them go, to move on with her life. To forget. That it was not in Lois's nature to do any of these things was irrelevant. She just didn't want to hurt any more.

She crossed her arms to ward off the sudden chill that swept down her spine. For a woman who just wanted so very badly to put the past behind her, she certainly was doing a terrible job of turning her back on it. Still, even if she really was the type of person who could just walk away (and she really wasn't), she was well aware that the time had long passed that she could safely do so. It was a difficult position she was in. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, as her father would say. Stuck between two dangerous alternatives, with neither being either the safe choice or the wise one.

Her mind wandered once again to the decision she'd made earlier that day. It was foolish to stay, to remain in proximity with Lex. He was without a doubt a dangerous man – there were more skeletons in his closet than in a graveyard. In his eyes, she was expendable, she knew – actually, not just expendable. A liability. She'd spent so much time trying to bring him down, and she was certain that he hadn't forgotten this in the false security of their temporary truce. She could lose so much, if she remained in the clutches of this cold charade. Her dignity. Her pride. Her life. But there was so much at risk now if she walked away. It went beyond the people who stood to lose their jobs if the sabotage continued. It even went beyond the loss of Peter Williams' life, though somebody should certainly be brought to justice for his murder.

She was risking Clark's life, his safety, his secret, with every moment she spent with Lex. Reminders of the friend she'd lost – lobbed at her by a man who had no real understanding of how that friendship had been taken from her in truth – were constant and cruel. It hurt her to think of Clark, and she harbored no illusions that Lex didn't absolutely revel in that knowledge. How many times did the ghost get dragged into their casual conversation? Even at the party, Lex had made a point to refer to the man who wasn't present no fewer than four times before Lois had been forced to take sanctuary on the opposite side of the room, where she'd been cornered by the heavily-lacquered Maria Harper.

Lex wanted to hurt her, and the only way he knew to do it was to throw Clark in her face. She could take his insults, his not-so-subtle insinuations that she'd meant nothing to the man she'd lov…befriended (after all, she had more than sufficient evidence that there was more truth behind these insinuations than she cared to admit). She was terrified, however, that she'd unwittingly give something away, that she'd let slip to Lex that Clark wasn't dead after all. He was alive, invulnerable, an alien more powerful than anything Lex Luthor ever could have dreamed.

Her hastily-concocted plan, so brilliant the day before, now had infinite potential to blow up in her face, and she didn't see any way to minimize the chances of it doing so. It had been so perfect, or so she'd thought, and even though there'd been an element of risk her plan, even as she'd originally concocted it, it was not more than she'd been able to accept. She'd been willing – eager, even – to put her life on the line to find the man who'd killed her best friend. "Oh, you might as well stop pretending, Lois," she muttered derisively to herself. To find whoever had killed the man she'd loved.

But Clark wasn't dead anymore – or, rather, he'd never died at all, and now she was risking not only her life, but his as well. It was a price she was no longer willing to pay, but what choice did she have? He was in danger – they were _both _in danger – if she stayed, but would that danger be at all lessened if she bowed out now? Peter Williams would still be dead, his murderer not brought to justice. The sabotage would continue, and people would likely lose their jobs, if not their lives. And Lex would wonder why the woman who'd so passionately sought vengeance now seemed willing and able to live without it, and he wouldn't quit digging until he found out why.

She couldn't take that chance, but there was so much on the line now in this dangerous game she played. That she'd unwittingly put Clark in his current predicament was irrelevant, as was the fact that it wouldn't have been an issue at all if she'd known he hadn't actually been murdered that day. It had been her decision that now plagued her, and she had to admit in retrospect that it had been nothing more than hubris. It had been hubris to think that she was clever enough to make a deal with the Devil, and one could say that she was only going to get what she deserved. Except now she wasn't the only one who would have to pay up.

It was an untenable situation, but Lois had only herself to blame for having thrown herself into it. She could hate Chloe for hiding the truth from her, she could hate Clark for going along with the deception, but she couldn't lay all the blame at their feet. It had been Lois, after all, who'd gone to Lex for help, even though she'd known what she was getting to and even after she'd been warned away.

So now she had to find out who was behind the sabotage at LuthorCorp by pretending to date Lex Luthor without revealing to anyone that her entire motivation for making such an alliance was now null and void. Once she'd brought him to justice, well…the rest frankly wasn't her problem. Chloe and Clark had decided to fake his death; they could damn well find a way out of it when the time came.

Lois took another deep breath, dropping her hands to her sides, where she wiped her damp palms against the soft fabric of her dress. It was, as she'd already concluded, an untenable situation. An impossible one. But she was Lois Lane. She could do this. If anyone could pull this off, it was she. 


	15. Chapter 15: A Tentative Truce

**Chapter 15: A Tentative Truce**

  
_"EXPLOSION COSTS LUTHORCORP GOVERNMENT CONTRACT" by Steven Edwards_

Yesterday's explosion during the testing of an experimental LuthorCorp military prototype has cost the company millions…

Lois sighed and tossed the newspaper aside. She didn't need to read it again; she'd already read it a dozen times or more. Resting her palms against her forehead, she sighed and tried to rub away the raging headache that was sprouting up behind her eyes. She'd been at this brilliant stroke of subterfuge for over a week now, and all of her attempts to pretend to be in love with Lex had gained her absolutely nothing. She was no closer to finding LuthorCorp's saboteur now than she had been when she'd woken up at the hospital.

With an almost inaudible groan, she swiveled in her chair and returned her attention to her task. Her shoulders bowed in defeat as she thumbed through pages and pages of names. Three different lists, each longer and more depressing to plow through than the last, were spread out on the desk in front of her, and though she'd been staring at the rows of names for what she was certain was at least the last thirty years or so, she had only managed to strike a dozen or so from the roster.

Resting her chin on her palm, Lois stared blindly at her computer screen and stabbed half-heartedly at the keys on her keyboard. God, what she wouldn't give for a little help, and it wasn't like she hadn't had offers. Chloe had tried to phone her at least three times, but she'd avoided the calls. Perhaps she was just being stubborn, but she just didn't feel up to talking to her cousin yet, which was possibly for the best, since she was still angry. In her current state of mind, any discussion that began with the two girls attempting to put the past behind them likely wouldn't end that way, and it was entirely probable that Lois would say a few things she might later regret.

But of course, now her damned stubborn pride meant she was working alone, and as much as she told herself repeatedly that she liked it that way, it certainly wasn't making her work load any lighter. Were he any other person, she might have asked Lex for assistance, but since he was who he was – and she was who she was – she felt more inclined to chew her own arm off.

Lois desperately longed to bang her head repeatedly upon her desk, and as she stared intently at the hard panel of wood in front of her, she contemplated the pros and cons of such an action. Her musings were interrupted, however, when a breeze behind her from the direction of the door that led to the balcony outside her temporary bedroom caused some of the papers to fly off her desk. Muttering a fierce oath, she knelt to pick them up, and then she heard the footsteps behind her.

Gasping, she tried to whirl to look at the intruder; the sudden shift of her balance caused her to topple to the side, and it was from this ignominious position that she saw the first glimpse of a leg clad in green leather. Tilting her head back, she glared up at the ceiling and sighed. Of course, it would be him.

"Oh, good," she muttered sarcastically as she struggled to her feet, embarrassed that he'd caught her in such a state, and she brushed uselessly at her clothes as she straightened. "I was so hoping you'd come. It was right up there with…getting a root canal, or…"

"Pretending to date Lex Luthor?" he finished for her, and she glowered at him. Unperturbed, he explained, "Chloe and I haven't heard from you in a while, and we were worried. You really shouldn't just…"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and sniped, "I really don't know that you want to be the one to try to tell me what I should or shouldn't do right now. And what are you doing here, anyway?"

Yet again, he was unfazed by her attitude. "You can be as pissed, and you can hate the two of us all you want, but you're living with Lex Luthor right now, Lois, and I don't care how angry you are! You know you can't just sit back and not let anyone know what's going on!"

"I'm in the newspapers almost every day, Cla…," she caught herself at the last moment. Lex had assured her several times that her room wasn't bugged, and she had no tangible reason to suspect that he'd lied to her, but only an idiot would take Lex Luthor at his word. Trying to cover her gaff, she let out a soft cough and amended, "Clearly, all you had to do was pick one up to tell that I'm still alive. Given the circumstances, I think even that's incredibly generous of me! Or have you forgotten what I said the last time we talked? I'm not entirely sure where you got the impression that I owe you anything anymore!"

He was practically snarling in irritation when he bit back, "You're changing the subject."

Yeah, how 'bout that?" she retorted, thrusting her hands on her hips and glaring daggers at him.

Their voices were raised in heated exchange, and Clark took another step toward her as he demanded, "Lois, I told you that I made a mistake! How many times do you want me to apologize for doing what I thought I had to do to _save your life_?"

"I don't know, but don't give up now; you're obviously doing so well," she said sarcastically.

Even though most of his face was obscured by the costume he wore, Lois didn't need to know him half as well as she did to know that his temper was almost at its breaking point. Any other man would have been thinking of throttling her at the moment, but Clark's features just grew stony as he sighed. "We made a mistake," he reiterated in a slightly calmer tone, "but you doing the same thing doesn't exactly help things."

With a roll of her eyes, she snarled, "Oh, gee. And how will I ever manage to live with myself, knowing that I didn't go out of my way to make things easier for you? Because I was so hoping…"

Well, that did it. Whatever tenuous hold Clark had maintained on his temper was lost, and he interrupted her, crying accusingly, "All things considered, I would think that you of all people should know that you can't leave the people who care about you in the dark!"

Lois was so incensed that she spluttered in indignation. "Don't you dare lecture me! Don't you dare! Where the hell do you think you get off telling me what to do?"

"I…" he began.

"No!" she yelled, cutting him off. "You have a hell of a lot of nerve, coming in here and talking to me like that! Or need I remind you that I'm here, in part, in order to help clean up a mess that _you _had no small part creating? And you think you can stand there and lecture me? Are you out of your mind, you hypocritical jerk? You have no right, _no right_, to come in here and criticize a damn thing I do!"

Clark was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice that sounded weary; all the anger had drained from his inflection. "I know," he admitted softly. "But you still shouldn't have let everyone worry about you like that."

In the face of his deflation, her anger abandoned her as she stared at the uncompromising lines of his face, and she wished his eyes weren't covered dark sunglasses. She'd always been able to read so much in his eyes, but now his thoughts and emotions were hidden from her. But, then again, everything about him was a mystery to her nowadays. "Yeah," she said wearily as she sunk wearily into her chair. "I know." Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, she sighed again and slumped against the back of the chair.

She was suddenly so exhausted; not even the anger that arose inside her at the thought of Chloe's and Clark's betrayal was enough to sustain her any longer. And, frankly, she was no longer one hundred percent certain who she was the angriest at – Clark, for faking his death; Chloe, for coming up with the harebrained scheme to begin with; or herself, for still caring about him, even though she'd sworn to herself that she'd just walk away. Even now, as infuriated as she was, her relief at having him whole and safe in front of her still made her a little weak at the knees, and she didn't know which impulse was stronger: the urge to strangle him or the urge to kiss him.

"Lois, are you okay?" he asked in concern, and when she heard him take a step forward, she dropped her hand to her side and glared up at him.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she changed the subject abruptly, shoving all thoughts of her traitorous weakness aside. "What are you doing here, anyway? You have to know that the Green Arrow isn't exactly on Lex's invi…the Green…Arrow…" Squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a light laugh. "The Green Arrow! You're the Green Arrow! How did I miss that earlier?"

She saw his mouth twist under his glasses, and he offered weakly, "You did have other things on your mind at the time." Then he cleared his throat and said, "And anyway, I'm not…I don't really know that I can…that I should…about the Green Arrow thing…"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted him, raising a hand to forestall his stammered explanation. "Really, let's just…all things considered, let's just shelve that for now. There are other things that I…I kissed you!" she blurted in a voice approaching a shriek. "And then I told you…I said…The day after, you just stood there while I…I didn't mean anything I said that day!" she cried emphatically.

The line of Clark's brows could be seen over the frame of his sunglasses as he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Okay, well…I don't really know that…"

She jumped to her feet and continued in the same tone, "No, I mean it! You should know…I mean, regardless of what I said before, you should know that you're just…I did _not _enjoy that kiss!" When he didn't move so much as a muscle in response, she winced and lowered her voice. "Okay…so…let's not talk about that right now. Now is…uh…now is not the time." Her cheeks flaming, Lois lowered herself back into her chair and turned her face away from him to hide her embarrassment.

Clark took pity on her by clearing his throat and changing the subject. "Anyway…so…I…uh…I like your hair." She tilted her face back towards him and gazed at him in bewilderment, and he explained, "The darker color. I…I just wanted to…It looks good on you."

"Er…thanks," she said awkwardly. Now that she'd done everything possible to humiliate herself in front of him, she was painfully aware of the shift between them. A month ago, such a silence between them would have been comfortable, full of things that didn't even need to be said. Now it was tense and awkward, full of things that should be discussed but neither party felt brave enough to broach. To put it lightly, it sucked.

"So…" she began awkwardly, tapping her fingers against her desk. "Er…not to be…Well, as you can see, I'm okay, and…uh…it really isn't a good idea for you to be here. Lex is…his cameras…"

"I avoided his cameras," he explained before adding gently, "I can move really fast, remember?"

Feeling somewhat stupid, Lois nodded. "And there aren't any in this room?" she asked weakly.

She saw him swivel his head around at all four walls, and then he shook his head. "No. Not in here."

Lois felt a bit of her tension ebb, and she sagged in her chair again. "Okay…well…great. I mean, that's good to hear. A bit surprising, but…you know…good." Another long silence stretched between them, and then she asked, a bit more bluntly than she'd intended, "So what are you doing here again?"

If Clark was at all disturbed by the tension in the room, he didn't show it. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and raised his hand to his face to remove the sunglasses that had so obscured his thoughts. "I…uh…how's the investigation going?"

She was unsurprised by the question, and she gave a tiny half-shrug in reply. Though a lie came easily to her lips, she didn't utter the words. Instead, she grimaced and speared her fingers through her hair in frustration. Speaking in a low voice, she admitted, "It's…I don't know. I thought it was going to be so easy, you know? I was sure that if I engaged in this charade, it would produce some results. But so far…" She spun her chair to the side so she could regard the stacks of lists on her desk with a mixture of irritation and sadness. With a shrug, she admitted, "I'll get there. It's just going to take some time."

She heard him move to her side as she stared unseeing eyes at the piles of paper on her desk. When she finally did tilt her head to look at him, she saw that he'd pushed back his hood and his cheek was mere inches from hers as he braced his weight on her desktop. The scent that she'd never realized she unconsciously associated with him – a combination of soap, laundry detergent, cologne, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on – slammed into her like a sucker punch to the stomach, and she caught her breath. Being there with him – the sound of his breathing, the way he smelled – was so very familiar; it was like coming home.

As soon as the thought occurred to her, Lois let out a tiny squeak of dismay and lurched to the side, away from him. Her sudden movement seemed to catch his attention, because he turned his head so he could meet her eyes, which helped the situation not at all. Her attempts to shy away from him had not gained her much ground; their faces were still entirely too close. At his questioning gaze, she blushed and asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "You want to back up a little, Smallville? Or do you not remember all those discussions we've had about personal space?"

Reluctantly, he straightened and moved aside to give her room, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Gathering her composure as much as she was able, Lois cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the lists. "The problem," she said firmly, redirecting her focus back to the matter at hand, "is that there isn't exactly a dearth of people who have reason to want to destroy Lex. He's…well, he's not exactly been shy about making enemies." At this mastery of understatement, she threw Clark a wry smile. "Unfortunately, it's not exactly easy to tell the difference between someone who merely feels cheated by some of his more…underhanded methods, and someone who would happily set him on fire just to watch him burn. But you have to admire his consistency, at least."

"If you say so," he muttered as he nodded at the papers she had in front of her. "So what are those?"

With a weary sigh, she admitted, "These? These are lists. Names. Hundreds and hundreds of names." Knowing this probably didn't clarify anything for him, she continued. "This list," she began as she picked up the top bundle, "is a list of everyone who's been to three or more events that Lex has attended since six months before the first suspected act of sabotage. I figure whoever it is that's trying to destroy him probably also has been tempted to take at least a few opportunities to feel self-satisfied about it. This next list," she said, picking up the one beneath it, "Is a list of _everyone _who's been to any of the parties Lex has attended in that time period, because I can't take the chance that our mystery man has given in to the urge to see the proof of his handiwork more than once. Then we have a list of everyone who's on the board of directors of any company Lex has had a hand in helping LuthorCorp to destroy," she picked up another list, "a list of every board member of a company that stands to benefit from Lex's current misfortune," another list, "and, finally, a list of everyone who we know to have a vendetta against Lex who's made any kind of public threat against him."

Clark stared at the papers in astonishment. "Lois…that's insane! You can't investigate all of those people yourself! You'll be celebrating your golden anniversary with him before you get through them all!" Then, turning to look at her, he set his jaw at an implacable angle and declared, "You need help. Why don't Chloe and I…"

"No," she interjected, not even waiting for him to finish.

"Lois!" he retorted irritably. "How can you be stubborn about this? You can't possibly do all this by yourself!"

"I don't care," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest again as she glowered up at him. "I don't want your guys' help, so thanks but no thanks. I've got it covered."

She expected him to argue the point; she didn't expect him to abruptly change the subject. But that's exactly what he did. "You can't hate us forever, Lois," he murmured softly, and there was sadness in the gaze he fixed upon her.

Though she normally had no problem pulling off false bravado, she found her words lacked bite as she retorted weakly, "Oh, yeah? Try me."

Though she'd hoped Clark had failed to pick up on her momentary lapse, she suspected he'd been far more astute than she'd have liked when he leaned in towards her, her name a whisper on his lips. She was transfixed by the look in his eyes, overwhelmed by the assault on her senses he waged just by being so near, and she didn't react until it was almost too late. His breath fanned softly against her cheek before she realized what was about to happen, but before he could cross a line she'd never thought he'd have the opportunity to so much as approach again, she turned her head away.

"No, Clark," she whispered, pretending to look down at the work on her desk again. Then, because there was an irritating little part of her that always tried to tell the truth, even when she wished for her own sake to hide within a lie, she admitted, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I can't hate you forever. But even if that's true…not yet. Okay? I can't get over this yet."

Silence fell between them after her remark, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and then he straightened again and resumed the argument as if the intervening interlude had never happened. "Let us help you, Lois. You're good, but there's no way you can do this by yourself. And in case you've forgotten…I happen to have a friend or two who's very good with researching things on a computer."

She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to tell him to take his help and shove it. Sadly, however, she couldn't deny that everything he said was true. It would take her years to do all this by herself, and they didn't have that kind of time. How many more acts of sabotage would be committed while she indulged her stubborn streak? "Okay," she finally agreed, though she knew she didn't sound happy about it as she handed over her stack of papers. "See what you can find out, and let me know if you come across anyone who looks even remotely promising." Then, after a slight pause wherein she considered the situation, she added, "And I know you're fast, but I don't think you should come visit me again. Honestly, I don't know what Lex would do if he found you here, and I don't think we should push our luck."

Though he took the papers she handed him and gave a nod of assent, he clearly wasn't happy about her observation. "I'm not going to leave you here alone," he stated fiercely.

Arching her eyebrows at him, she swiveled around in her chair so she could jump to her feet and walk toward the window, silently telling him that their little interlude was over. A glance at her watch had informed her that it was getting late, and she had an early morning planned the next day. "I don't need your _protection_, Clark," she responded in kind, equating, in her mind, his idea of protection with keeping her in the dark. "Or haven't you gotten that picture by now?"

Following her to the window, Clark took a chance by placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him so he could meet her eyes as he explained, "I'm not talking about _protecting _you, Lois. I'm talking about _helping _you. You're in a lot of danger here, whether you want to admit it to me or not. And I…I know you're mad at me right now, but I couldn't stand it if something happened to you. So please, let me…I know you haven't forgiven me yet, but if you need anything…_anything_…just…know that I'm here for you. Promise me that you'll let me help you through this."

Lois bit her lip indecisively as she considered his offer. Part of her wanted to take him up on his offer, even as another part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell. Clenching her jaw, she indulged in a silent internal cry of frustration. Damn it, what would it take for her to let him go?

He was standing by the window, about to leave. She should refuse to commit to anything, let him leave, and ruthlessly put him out of her mind for as long as humanly possible. At the very least, she should shrug his hand off of her and make it very clear to him that she would no longer be welcoming of such contact. Instead, she found herself reaching up to grab the hand that was on her shoulder, and though she did let it go, she didn't do so right away, and her fingers brushed his as she pulled her hand away.

"I can't promise anything, but…I'll try," she agreed lamely as she took a step away from him. "Look, I…" She paused, not really certain what she was about to say, but since she doubted her pride would remain intact if she let herself say it, she changed her mind and the subject at the last moment. "Lex and I are having some people over tomorrow night," she said instead, and she didn't miss Clark's wince at how easily the paired names seemed to roll off her tongue. "But maybe…if you guys find anything, have Chloe bring it by in a couple of days."

"Yeah, okay," he said reluctantly, turning to go. Before he disappeared from sight, however, he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Be careful, okay?"

"As careful as I always am," she agreed, though she knew that he had to know her well enough to know how weak that agreement was. Then, thinking of how unlikely it was that Clark would actually stay away from the Mansion the way that she'd requested, she added, "You too."

He looked like there were a thousand things he wanted to say, but after a long moment of silence, he said softly, "I'll see you soon." Then, faster than she could blink, he was gone.

With a heavy sigh, Lois turned back to her desk and stared at few names she'd jotted down on a Post-It note. She'd given Clark her lists, but that didn't mean that she was giving up on her part of the investigation. She had a little digging to do of her own, into these men whose companies stood the most to gain from the downfall of Lex Luthor.

Steven Miller, head of Miller & Sons, Inc.. Michael Edwards, CEO of MetroTech. Bruce Wayne, the Darling of Gotham and the owner of Wayne Enterprises. And Margaret Anderson, acting head of SunCom. Oliver Queen, head of Queen Industries, should have been on the list, but she'd dated him; she couldn't imagine him dong such a thing as industrial sabotage.

Of course, the saboteur could be one of those people Clark and Chloe were going to be in charge of investigating, but Lois had a feeling she shouldn't disregard the names on this list. As she sat in the chair and fingered the edges of the Post-It, she pursed her lips in thought. Maybe it was time for her to take the matter into her own hands. If LuthorCorp's saboteur wasn't going to come to her…well…clearly she was going to have to go to him. 


	16. Chapter 16: Sex, Lies, and Bullseyes

**Chapter 16: Sex, Lies, and Bullseyes**

When Lois awoke the next morning, she stretched languidly and rolled over in bed, a wide grin on her face. She hadn't slept that well in what felt like ages, and she closed her eyes tight to try to recapture the dream that had caused her to feel so good.

A blush tinged her cheeks as a few details from the dream came to mind. Perhaps "good" was a bit of an understatement, but oh, what a memory. She remembered how the man in her dream had held her in his arms, how the muscles of his stomach had tightened under her fingers. She remembered the way his lips felt against hers, and the way he'd laughed when her hair brushed lightly over his chest. She remembered the way he'd drawn in a sharp breath, too, when she'd explored his body and placed a gentle kiss on the adorable freckle on his left hip.

Wait a minute. She recognized that freckle. That was a very real freckle, not just a figment of an overly active imagination. Bolting up in bed, she practically levitated off the mattress with a small scream of frustration. Damn it! As much as she was trying to keep Clark at a distance, her dream self was clearly not getting the picture, because not only had it remembered that freckle (had she called it adorable? She'd been lying), it had spent quite a bit of time kissing both that little dot of darkened skin and all the paler skin around it. And then, of course, when that hadn't been enough, her dream self had…

"So not going there, Lois," she muttered darkly to herself as she grabbed a silk robe of the back of her desk chair and pulled it on, tying the belt with a vicious yank. "Stupid dream didn't mean anything. Certainly doesn't mean I care about that stupid freckle on that stupid hip, and…and what does that man need a freckle there for? I mean, is it absolutely necessary?" she demanded of her reflection angrily. It didn't seem to have the answer, so still muttering darkly to herself, Lois scowled and turned away. When she caught sight of the bed, however, she flushed again. With a frustrated cry, she stalked toward the door. Clearly, this was a perfect time to get out of this room.

Through sheer will and what had to be almost a gallon of coffee, Lois tried to put the memory out of her mind but nothing seemed to do the trick. Unfortunately, her memory – the same memory that frequently abandoned her on important things like why she had thrown a pair of high heeled shoes in the freezer – was being remarkably persistent in remembering all of the rather explicit things her dream self had done to Clark's dream self the night before. It eventually got so bad that, when she was greeting one of Lex's maids and saw a smattering of freckles on the younger girl's nose, Lois had blushed deep red and had to quickly walk into the other room without giving the confused woman any explanation at all.

And now she was stuck here, because she would look even more foolish if she walked back out into the hallway while Marie was still there. Feeling slightly disgruntled, Lois began to meander aimlessly around Lex's study, where she'd fled. After a quick scan of the books on his shelves produced nothing of interest, she strolled over to his desk and lowered herself into the chair. Of course, she didn't really expect to find anything incriminating lying about – Lex knew she was staying under his roof, and he was no fool.

Okay, well, this was just ridiculous. There was no reason why Lois should be driven to ground by the sight of mere freckles, for crying out loud. Rising to her feet, she told herself resolutely that she'd go upstairs, get dressed, and get a little research done before she had to get dressed for dinner. Yes, that's what she'd do. And she'd keep stupid Clark and his stupid freckle out of her memory and…as if taunting her, the memory of what her dream self had done to Clark _after _kissing his freckle came suddenly to mind in fairly graphic detail.

With a little cry of frustration, Lois bolted towards the door and almost knocked over Marie, who was walking into the room. Stopping just in time, Lois smiled sheepishly and took a step back, saying, "Uh…sorry."

"It's all right, Miss Lane," Marie said kindly, though she was definitely looking at Lex's newest house guest as if there was a good chance Lois had a few screws loose. "I didn't mean to intrude, but Mr. Luthor called to inform you that he has some business to attend to this evening, and so dinner has been postponed." As she spoke, she walked into the room and placed a handful of mail onto the desk before turning and giving Lois an expectant look.

"I…er…great?" Lois offered, not really knowing the proper protocol for such a situation. Was she supposed to give the other woman a tip? If so, it was going to have to be of the "stay away from thinking of a man's freckles" variety, because she certainly didn't have any money on her.

Marie seemed satisfied, however, because with a quick nod and a few murmured words, the other woman walked out into the hall and Lois was once again left to her own devices. And once again feeling like an idiot. So, instead of heading up to her bedroom like she'd planned, she walked back over to the desk and lowered herself into the chair to pout for just a couple of minutes. This was seriously not turning into her day.

So now that the dinner had been cancelled, what was she going to do with the rest of her afternoon? Of course, she really should get some more investigative work done, but she thought if she had to stare at a computer screen for ten more minutes, she'd go both blind and stark-raving mad. The thought occurred to her that she could call Chloe and have her come over a day early, but she wasn't entirely sure she was up for that yet.

As she mulled over her options, the fingertips of one hand tapped a staccato beat on the hard wood of the desk, and she played idly with the corner of one of the envelopes Marie had left on the desk with the other. She was bored, and after all this time spent in the mansion, she was getting restless and stir crazy to boot. She had no idea how Lana had ever managed to spend hour after hour in this mausoleum, because Lois was getting pretty sick of feeling like she was going to break some rare antiquity when she just took a trip to the bathroom. In frank desperation, Lois had been forced to take an unnecessary trip for some Rocky Road ice cream the night before, after Clark left – to dispel some of her tension and some of her restlessness.

The ice cream run had taken care of her restlessness; her dream had apparently taken care of her tension. _Oh, ha ha, Lois. Funny._

Rolling her eyes at her own internal monologue, Lois sighed and glanced down at the stack of envelopes on the desk. Well, whatever she decided to do, she should probably get to it. Sitting around all day didn't seem like the…That was strange.

With a small frown, Lois glanced down at the pile of mail on the desk. Her idle attention to the smaller white envelopes had pushed them aside, allowing her to see the large manila envelope at the bottom. It had been brought in with the rest of the mail, but there was something distinctly unusual about it. Unlike all the other letters, this envelope had neither been addressed nor affixed with postage. Wherever it had come from, it hadn't come from the post office.

Though it was probably (okay, definitely) none of her business, Lois couldn't deny her swell of curiosity. Glancing around furtively, she pulled the manila envelope into her lap. Then she remembered where she was, and she looked up, letting her eyes scan the ceiling. She didn't see the security cameras, but she knew they were there, so she offered them a smile and a brief wave before unabashedly turning her attention back to the mysterious envelope. Under any other circumstances, she might feel embarrassed to be electronically caught snooping where she didn't belong, but in this case, she refused to feel such an emotion. Lex had ransacked her apartment and then offered her a place to live – both for his own reasons. In her mind, he was now only getting what he deserved in trying to control her life in such a fashion.

Without an ounce of shame or regret, Lois flicked up the metal clasp with her fingernail and lifted the flap. In a matter of seconds, she had dumped the envelopes contents onto the desk and was looking over them with a smug smile. In just a few more seconds, however, Lois's smile fell from her face and she sucked in a deep breath. She didn't know what she'd been expecting the envelope to contain, exactly – Top Secret documents, a contract signed in blood – but it definitely wasn't this.

They were photographs, all of them. Photo after photo after photo, about ten in all. And they were all of her. Not only that, but though they were taken from different times in different places, they were almost all shot by someone who was either standing incredibly close to her or by someone who had a very good zoom function on their camera. And on all of them, a bullseye had been drawn over her face.

Swallowing heavily, Lois breathed deeply through her nose as she battled against her surge of fear and tried to think rationally about what was before her. Okay, so this was terrifyingly real. Okay, so the person who had been sabotaging Lex's company and who had caused Clark's "death" had either personally been or, more likely paid somebody to get, extremely close to her on several occasions. And that person was now sending not-so-subtle threats on her life to Lex. Which meant, if one wanted to look at the situation with as much of an optimistic eye as one could possibly manage, that her little charade was working. Of course, it also meant she could die. "Well, that's nothing new. Not particularly comforting, mind. But not new," she muttered to herself.

It took her a minute, but when she finally had reasonable control over herself, she tried to look at the photos with an objective eye. It was possible these held some sort of clue that would help her in her investigation. Okay, so, three of them seemed to come from security footage from within the mansion. No real surprise there; the Luthor Mansion's security was notoriously filled with more holes than Swiss cheese. One of them was clearly taken by someone standing outside the mansion's gates one morning when she'd gone for a walk about the property. Four were taken of her in the various places around town she'd travelled in the last week or so.

The last two photos were the most troubling however. Both had been taken the night before, when she'd taken her impromptu trip to get ice cream. She had only announced her intention to go out at the last minute, and she'd done so in the privacy of her un-bugged bedroom. And that meant that whoever was threatening her was either in collusion with (or was in fact) one of Lex's employees who had overheard Lex calling out to her as she left to ask her to pick him up a pint of butter pecan, or…or he lurked around the perimeter of the mansion on a regular basis so that he could keep an eye her.

A chill raced up her spine, and she shivered. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to put this newest piece of the jigsaw puzzle into place. So, she was definitely getting to someone, whoever it was, and that was definitely progress. But why had they just started to leave this type of message for Lex now, after all this time? What had changed to cause them to threaten her?

Or maybe they hadn't. Time after time, Lois had asked Lex if he had any information to share, and he'd almost always said he didn't. She'd grudgingly taken him at his word at the time, assuming that he would realize that it was in his best interest to be forthcoming on the matter, but what if he had been lying?

Galvanized into action, Lois began to yank open the doors on Lex's desk, looking to see if he'd hidden any other envelopes there. The first drawer held only pens and other office supplies; the second, only blank notebooks and various other useless scraps of paper. On her third attempt, however, the drawer didn't move when she gave it a sharp tug.

Grabbing a letter opener out of the top drawer, Lois shoved it hard into the crack above the drawer and tried to use it to exert enough pressure to break the lock. Two attempts later, the letter opener broke even as the drawer's lock held, and she tossed the broken implement impatiently aside and grabbed a pair of scissors instead.

She was cutting deep gouges from the wood as she jabbed the scissors repeatedly into the crack, but she didn't care. It wasn't like Lex wasn't going to realize his desk had been broken into, even if she was careful about trying to break the lock. After several minutes and quite a bit of effort – she was sweating by the time she was finished – the wood splintered, the lock broke, and her exertions finally paid off.

Inside the drawer were four other envelopes, each identical to the one still lying on the top of the desk. Each contained similar sets of photos, taken at various times. As she spread the photos on top of the desk, however, she did realize one crucial difference: the threat was obviously increasing with each set of ten. The first ten were all taken from far away, and all were shot of her in public; the bullseyes had been a recent addition. Whoever was sending them, the message he was trying to convey was obvious, and Lois was getting it loud and clear.

She didn't even bother cleaning up before she jumped to her feet and bolted towards her bedroom. That was it; no more delaying. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do, but she was sure as hell going to do _something_. Sure, she could come out of this game with a bullet between the eyes, but if she was going to run in the face of danger, she was going to do it at full speed.

Hastily throwing on a set of clothes, Lois swept her hair into a ponytail and snatched her purse and the list of names off the top of her desk. Then she stuck her phone into her pocket and walked out the door. As she left the mansion, she paused only long enough to swipe a set of keys to one of Lex's cars – if he was going to hide these repeated threats on her life, then he could certainly lend her a car while she took steps to rectify the situation.

A glare stopped the chauffeur from protesting as she hopped behind the wheel of a silver Porche, and then she was off. When she hit the road, she looked over at the Post It Note propped up on the dash.

"Eenie…meanie…miney…mo," she muttered as she scanned the list and picked a name at random. "All right, Mr. Wayne. You're first up. Let's see what kinds of trouble Gotham has to offer." With a smile and a sharp turn of the wheel, she turned the car towards the highway. As she drove, she swore that the night before would be the last night she was going to waste sitting at the mansion, waiting for something to happen. It felt wonderful and incredibly liberating to finally be taking action, and whatever happened next, she felt for the first time in a long time as if her destiny was finally in her hands once more.

Pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her bag, she slipped them on and smirked in self-satisfaction at the reflection of the woman that she saw in the rear-view mirror. Flipping on the car radio with a jab of her thumb, she cranked up the volume and let the music wash over her body. She felt free. After what felt like _years_, ever since that explosion at the warehouse, when the light had lifted her off her feet and shattered her heart as it tossed her aside, she felt like Lois Lane once more. Unstoppable. Fearless. Alive.

Lois smirked at the reflection in the rear view mirror one last time before turning her attention back to the road and flooring the gas. As a new song came on the radio, she sang along at the top of her lungs. "One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna get ya get ya get ya get ya…"


	17. Chapter 17: Reaching into the Dark

**Chapter 17: Reaching Into the Dark**

The loud blare of a horn cut through the still air, causing Lois to jump, and she cursed when the sudden move caused her elbow to smack against the window. Raising one hand to rub the sore spot, she shifted position to lessen the chances of her foot making such an accidental contact again. It was damned inconvenient to change clothes in the car, she reflected irritably as she struggled with the nylons that refused to cooperate, but at least it beat the alternative.

Her first choice had been a gas station on the side of the road, reasonably close to Wayne Manor. One look inside the dingy bathroom, however, had changed her mind and almost emptied her stomach. There was no way she wanted to approach the mysterious and unidentified puddles on the floor (though her nose was doing its best to make its opinion on the origin of said puddles clear); the odds were even less that she'd risk letting her new ballgown trail into one of them. She was about to conduct a covert operation, something she could hardly do if she smelled like a latrine.

With a few more muttered disparaging remarks about the parentage of the nylons that were putting up more of a struggle than most fighting platoons she'd met, Lois finally managed to wrestle the sheer fabric into place. Scooting forward, she bent to pull the ballgown into place and twisted to do up the zipper to the garment. This was sure a hell of a lot easier to manage when she had more than three cubic feet to work with, she had to admit.

That finally done, Lois clambered awkwardly out of the car and scooted back into the front seat, where she adjusted the rear view mirror to check her makeup. She was happy to note that it only needed a few quick adjustments to look appropriate for the evening. Then with some hastily adorned jewelry and a pair of murderous shoes slipped on her feet, she gave her reflection an assessing glance. Not bad, she finally admitted as she gazed at herself critically. Why, she almost looked like she'd been invited to this party, instead of being the party crasher that she knew she was about to be.

She didn't know where the sudden spate of luck had come from, but Lois wasn't complaining. When she'd arrived at Wayne Manor, ready to find a way to storm the castle, she'd discovered that such obvious tactics wouldn't be necessary. Bruce Wayne, it appeared, was throwing a birthday party for the Mayor of Gotham that very evening. It went without saying that it was to be a very formal affair – invitation only. It also went without saying that Lois had procured no such invitation. On the other hand, she wasn't about to let a pesky detail like that stop her.

So, with only the tiniest twinge of conscience, Lois had taken the Platinum card Lex had leant her and hit the shops. Though she'd originally balked at spending any more of Lex's money than he'd already spent on her (and loathed the fact that he was indebted to him at all), she'd consoled herself with the thought that this _was _as much for his benefit as it was for hers. If she found the man who had tried to murder Clark, she'd find the man who was sabotaging Lex's company. (That she'd been telling herself that the latter was the sole reason why she was bothering to investigate in the first place didn't even occur to her at that moment.) Looking at it that way, she was almost doing Lex a favor, spending several hundred dollars he frankly wasn't likely to miss.

There was also something to be said for the fact that anyone monitoring Lex's credit card purchases (if anyone was doing such a thing) would know where she was and might possibly discern what she was up to. At that rather sobering reminder, Lois had consoled herself with the thought that she'd hardly be in Gotham long enough for anyone to plan anything particularly nefarious. She was going to be in and out, long gone before anyone had the chance to track her down. She'd hardly be sticking around for the party; as soon as she found what she was looking for, she'd be out of there.

All she needed now was a way into the party to begin with.

It was with a significant degree of irritation and no small measure of patience (something she hardly had to spare) that Lois sat in Lex's car, discreetly parked a ways from the Manor. It was only after at least a hundred limos had passed the spot where she'd hidden the car that she made her move.

Driving up the Manor's gravel drive wasn't a problem; the large iron gates that normally stood sentry had been thrown open in consideration for the evening's events. The problem would be getting through the front door. With that in mind, she sedately handed the valet the keys to her car and walked towards the entrance as if she had every right to be there. Then, seeing no immediate opening, she pretended to snag her dress on something and paused in a pretense of checking on the fabric of the garment. When that was finished, she made a show of adjusting her shoe. By the time she'd resorted to touching up her makeup, the two men standing at the door checking invitations had begun to glance her way and she knew that if she didn't move soon, she was going to be found out.

Thankfully, her luck seemed to be holding. Just when she had determined she was going to have to try to bluff her way through, a long limo pulled up at the bottom of the steps and about six or seven socialites tumbled out. Perfect.

As the crowd passed her, Lois plastered a smile on her face and walked briskly towards the rear of the group, trying to pretend (for the benefit of the men standing guard at the doors) as if the people in front of her weren't total strangers while at the same time (for the benefit of the group in question) trying not to seem like she was totally insane. If she could only blend in with them…but by now the men checking invitations had taken notice of her, so it was going to take a bit more than just trying to mill with the crowd for her to get through the door. She'd have to actually pull off appearing to be friends with at least one of the lot of them.

At the back of the group, a buxom blonde who seemed like a stiff breeze would take her out of her dress entirely was pulling a compact out of her bag and checking her makeup. Something about the way she primped her hair and pursed her lips into a pout so that she could examine her reflection as she did so caught Lois's attention, and with a sigh of satisfaction only barely repressed, Lois realized she'd found the perfect mark.

"Excuse me," she said politely in a soft voice as she sidled up next to the blonde. "That's a beautiful dress that you're wearing. Where did you get it?"

The compact was hastily snapped shut and slipped back into the bag as the woman turned to her in an attitude that was just this side of gloating. "Why, thank you! I had it personally made for me. Maxine is _such _a wonderful dressmaker, but she's very particular about her clients, of course!" As Lois made a non-committal grunt of assent, she watched as the woman's gaze took in her appearance and narrowed. Then, with a rather catty smile, the woman continued, "Your dress is certainly…lovely as well. You're _so _lucky to be able to wear something straight off the rack! I could never pull it off, I'm sure!"

Oh, so it was to be like that, was it? Well, Lois wasn't one to back down from a challenge, so she plastered a sickly smile on her face to mirror the one she was given and replied sweetly, "Why, thank you. Yes, I can imagine it _must _be trying to always have to have your clothes special ordered. But, then, I suppose a dressmaker's skills are just _so _necessary to hide all those flaws that would be so apparent in a gown that wasn't personally tailored. Don't you think?"

The blonde's lips curled back from her teeth in a feral snarl and her eyes narrowed even further. Of course, Lois knew she was taking a big risk being so provoking, but she couldn't resist. At any rate, this woman was rapidly coming off as just the type of woman who wouldn't know how to converse with others without every remark being marked by thinly veiled insults.

Clearly feeling like she'd lost some ground, the blonde switched tactics. "I'm sure I don't know, but, I swear you look familiar. You weren't the one who accompanied Bruce to the Black and White Ball two months ago, were you? _How _unfortunate that he never sees a woman more than twice – and I hear that you were _convinced _that Bruce was truly interested in you! You poor dear. It must have been heartbreaking for you to have been so quickly and easily replaced."

"Not at all," Lois said with a smile that was actually somewhat amused. Oh, so that's what this woman was after? She wanted a turn with Bruce Wayne. Well, she was certainly more than welcome to it, as Lois had no intention of standing in her way. And if that was really the kind of man Bruce Wayne was, she couldn't regret the fact that she had more important matters to worry about than appealing to the capriciousness of his vanity. "I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else. I've never…"

"I know who you are!" the woman interrupted, her eyes wide with excitement. "You're the new Lex Girl!"

Trying very hard not to punch the woman's no-doubt-surgically-altered nose, Lois forced a smile as she nodded noncommittally. "Our names have been linked lately, I suppose."

"Oh, don't play coy!" the blonde exclaimed, and Lois noted with some relief that they had almost breached the entrance. And then she could find a way to separate from this insufferable company. "So where is the Bald Billionaire this evening?"

Making certain to keep the noncommittal tone, Lois remarked, "I'm afraid Lex is busy this evening, attending to business matters."

When the blonde smirked in a superior fashion, Lois almost gave in to the temptation she'd heretofore managed to ward off. "I see," was the simple remark. "Well, I sincerely hope this isn't an indication that Lex has thrown you over," she added sounding anything but sincere. "Of course, I'm sure you know that Brucie is the third richest man in the world…soon to be moved up a spot, as I understand it. And Lex Luthor is…what…fifth?"

They had finally reached the sentries, who were looking closely at the invitations handed them by someone in the group. Lois felt herself getting nervous, so she concentrated on the conversation and tried to pretend that she and the Nameless Blonde were old (if not particularly dear) friends. "Mm…and yet Lex outranks Bruce on the list of the most powerful men in the world, doesn't he?"

The blonde snarled, so Lois assumed her shot had either hit the mark or the woman didn't know any better and so was more than willing to take her at her word. Clearly not willing to give up while she was behind, the blonde plunged ahead. "Still, I'm _so _sorry to read all the unfortunate press your new love affair is getting. It must be _horrible_, all those things the tabloids are saying about you two. Tell me, is it _terrible _to have to read all those reports that Lex could do _so _much better than you?"

They were finally through. The sentries had apparently bought Lois's act, as they didn't accost her. Stifling her sigh of relief, she decided it was high time to make good at her escape – but not without making one final parting shot, however. With a light laugh that was as much relief as artifice, she replied, "Oh, it doesn't bother me, but, then again, I have a billionaire to come home to. I suppose when you find yourself in such a situation, you'll have to judge its tolerability for yourself…_if _you ever manage to land one, that is." Her tone indicated how unlikely she found that to be. "If you'll excuse me," she said briskly and walked away, leaving her nameless companion to stare at her in fury, the picture of wounded dignity at having lost the verbal sparring match.

It took all of four steps for Lois to forget about the vapid socialite entirely as she concentrated on other matters. Though she was fairly itching to get down to business, she knew she had to keep up appearances if she didn't want to draw attention to herself. To that end, she grabbed a champagne glass off a passing tray and endeavored to make a full circuit around the room, stopping to chat with several clusters of partygoers along the way. Each time, she made sure to speak to everyone in the group long enough that people would remember vaguely having spoken with her without staying long enough to make an impression on anyone in particular.

It was something of a nerve-wracking experience as she tried to both appear as if she belonged in her surroundings without actually running into her host – a particularly difficult endeavor as she wasn't entirely sure she'd recognize him if she tripped over him. Of course, she'd seen him in the occasional newspaper, but as she wasn't much for gossip rags, she'd never really taken note of what he looked like – and there was always the problem that people rarely looked exactly the same in person as they did in photographs. Still, as she moved around the room, she tried to keep an eye out for what she _thought _Bruce Wayne would look like, and when any guest mentioned that they'd seen their host at a particular locale, Lois made sure to drift in the opposite direction as seemingly casually as she could manage.

After the fifth surreptitious glance at the watch on her wrist confirmed she'd been keeping the pretense long enough, Lois left her empty champagne glass on another passing tray and started moving towards the nearest staircase to the upper floors of the house, trying not to appear to head that direction with any particular purpose. The party had taken over almost the entire bottom floor to the mansion; as it was unlikely that Bruce would have kept anything incriminating anywhere that a lost, confused, or nosy guest would be likely to stumble across it, Lois figured her best bet would be to search the private quarters, which had been closed off from the party.

Luckily, she was able to make a break up the stairs without risking too much notice; quite a few people had taken to the curved staircase to get a break from the pack below. Smiling as vapidly as she could manage, Lois ascended the stairs, again making sure to stop to chat along the way. About three-quarters of the way up, the last group of about eight people were milling about, so she paused to chat idly with them, making sure to stay with the group for at least five minutes. When even the people with whom she was conversing seemed to no longer be taking particular note of her presence, Lois let herself drift to the outside of the group, waited until she thought everyone had forgotten her presence entirely, and then turned and darted up the last few steps to the floor below.

She figured she had the highest chance of being caught as she scaled those last ten steps or so, but as she reached the upper floor without anyone accosting or calling out to her, she breathed a sigh of relief and congratulated herself on a job well done. She probably would have reserved her congratulations for later, however, had she but realized that her presence had not gone completely unmarked. Indeed, one pair of eyes had followed her as she made the circuit around the floor of the party, had noted when she'd escaped to the floor above, and was even now preparing to follow at a discreet distance.

On the first floor of the mansion, Lois was completely ignorant of that fact, however, so she peeked into every room she passed in blissful ignorance. The first several rooms weren't particularly promising. Though it was entirely possible that Bruce Wayne lived up to the full measure of his reputation – and was thus incapable of plotting, let alone carrying out, such a cunning plan as the systematic sabotage of LuthorCorp – she figured even a brainless, witless, boorish playboy would be smart enough to know not to leave any incriminating evidence lying about in a folder marked, "My Evil Scheme." No, even the most incompetent of criminals (which, incidentally, the man she was up against clearly was not), would be likely to keep such things in a safe place.

In general, she figured the most logical place to start her search would be the study, but she had no idea which floor such a room would be located on – or even if the study was a place Bruce Wayne ever frequented (it was possible that he actually did real work for his company, but she wasn't going to assume as much), she figured she'd start at the bedroom instead. Unfortunately, finding his bedroom was getting to be something of a task.

Room after room, Lois travelled through the first floor to the mansion without much luck. It was, however, incredibly difficult to keep herself from getting distracted at the treasures within. From the wondrous to the amusing to the frankly absurd, Wayne Manor had it all and then some. Actually, the Manor had it all and then quite a bit, with a little on the side and an extra dollop on top. She was somewhat surprised to note that almost every room she visited was well tended and, in general, tastefully decorated. To be certain, there was a lot to find in this place, but there was still something about Wayne Manor that set it apart from Luthor Mansion. Yes, both mansions had enough priceless works of art to possibly qualify as museums, but, unlike with Luthor Mansion, Lois could tell which rooms in Wayne Manor were actually _lived _in by its inhabitants by the personal touches in the rooms in question.

Luthor Manion was practically a mausoleum, where it seemed even the living were preserved, sanctified, and set aside to stand both as testaments to and as wardens of the family line rather than as people in their own right. Wayne Manor, on the other hand, for all its size and grandiose interior, felt more like a _home_.

Though Lois had begun her investigation feeling like an intruder, that sense had gradually fallen away as she drifted from room to room, sticking close to the series of rooms that looked more lived in as being the most likely to lead to Bruce's bedroom. Finally, Lois found a room roughly the size of her entire apartment, and as she crossed through it, she saw a beautifully ornate oak table with a silver frame on top. Her curiosity piqued, she made the slight detour to pick up the frame and moved it closer to the light spilling in through the massive windows, tilt it slightly to get a better look.

It was a family – presumably the Waynes. A beautiful blonde woman with short hair, curled slightly, stood in a black silk gown, white pearls around her neck. There was something either in the glint in her eye or in the curve of her lips that brought an answering smile to Lois's face. Though she'd never met the woman, of course (and, if this truly was the Elder Waynes, she never would), she had a feeling the two of them would have gotten along better than the men in their lives would have been necessarily comfortable with – the _man_, Lois corrected herself hastily. The man in Mrs. Wayne's life. Lois didn't have a man in her life, and she was perfectly fine with that thought.

Her good mood temporarily dampened by the thought, Lois pulled her gaze away from the blonde and gazed at the other two figures in the picture. The woman was standing next to a man who Lois figured had probably been slightly graver in temperament than his wife, but, again, there was something about him that stopped her from labeling him as "stuffy" – though he was dressed in a tuxedo that was almost painfully correct, down to the crisp knot in his bowtie. Perhaps it was the friendliness of the smile, or the way his gaze seemed to indicate that he was joining the woman next to him in the joke and couldn't care less if nobody else got it.

She decided she would have liked the both of them immediately, though whether they would have reciprocated was probably arguable. At last, she dropped her gaze to the boy standing between them, both of his shoulders covered by a protective hand belonging to the man and woman on either side of him. Of the three, he looked the most serious, though he too was smiling. He didn't look grave, not exactly, and if she had to explain her first impression of him, she would have found it hard to argue that he was anything but happy and carefree. But there was something in the way he looked directly at the camera, his chin set firmly even through his smile. She could only imagine that he'd been something of a serious child – intelligent, grave, somehow aloof from the world around him.

Though she didn't think about the gesture, Lois trailed one finger softly over the boy's face. Was this Bruce Wayne, the man who had watched his parents be murdered in front of him and yet had, by all accounts, taken the role that had been his destiny from the day he'd been born rather carelessly? Though he was now officially the head of Wayne Enterprises, was the corporate entrepreneur the real man, or was it the billionaire playboy who took nothing seriously in life? Or was there something more?

Dissatisfied by the questions that had no answers and irritated that she'd allowed herself to become so distracted, Lois set the frame back in place and moved purposefully towards the closed door that had been her original destination. As she scooted quietly through it (the plush carpeting into which every step sank ensured that her footfalls made very little noise), Lois sighed with relief. She'd finally found the room she had been looking for.

Once again all business, Lois noted only dispassionately the shadowed furniture in the room – the immense bed, the heavy furniture that was probably oak. Though it was dark, she didn't dare flick on one of the lamps for fear that the light would draw unwanted attention, but at least the lawns outside were brightly lit, allowing enough light to spill through the windows for her to discern vague shapes in the room. It wasn't going to make her job particularly easy, but at least her task wouldn't be totally impossible.

Her breath held in anticipation, Lois crossed over to the nearest armoire and began her search, moving as quickly as possible while trying not to disturb too much. Everything was absolutely pristine, neatly sorted and put away; she had a feeling if she didn't take care, the slightest disturbance would be noticed by either the occupant of the room or the servants who tended to it.

She didn't know how long she'd been at her fruitless search when she caught her breath and turned her head toward the door. Had she just heard a sound in the other room? No light spilled under the doorframe, but she could swear she'd just heard a soft sound that didn't belong in the stillness of the room. As the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose, Lois quickly and quietly shut the dresser drawer she'd been searching through (more by feel than by sight) and rose to her feet.

As the sound came again, she looked around desperately for a place to hide. For a room as large as this one, there weren't that many options, and she didn't have a lot of time to seek out more. Without another thought, Lois darted towards the heavy drapes beside the window closest to the door. Of course, anyone who actually came looking for her would have absolutely no trouble finding her in such a location, but there was no reason for her to believe that her presence in this area of the mansion had been noted. It was possible that the intruder would be a servant, or possibly even a pair of party guests looking for some privacy in which to engage in an illicit assignation (she really hoped the latter wasn't the case or this would likely be a very awkward situation). It could even, she supposed, be the Lord of the Manor himself, stopping by the room to freshen up before returning to the festivities that she knew were still in full swing, at least if the faint sounds of laughter coming from the partygoers below were any indication.

With bated breath, Lois scooted behind the curtain and let it fall to conceal her just in time to hear the bedroom door to open and someone enter the room. Though she made herself as still as she could as she hoped that the intrusion was an innocent one, she couldn't help but notice that, even after a good minute, the light hadn't been switched on. Was her new companion so familiar with the surroundings that he didn't need it, or did her new companion have intentions at least as nefarious (if not more) than her own?

One thing was for sure; she really shouldn't stick around to find out. Her breaths coming shallow and silent, Lois scooted towards the edge of the curtain, trying to get a sense for where the intruder was in the room. Perhaps she could make a break of it before anyone could catch her. It was fortunate that the ballgown she'd purchased for the evening had plenty of fabric in the skirts; so long as she could avoid getting her legs entangled in the fabric, she could at least rest assured that her movement wasn't going to be hampered by a tight skirt that forced her to take small mincing steps.

Lois once again caught her breath as she strained her ears to hear the other person in the room. When that was to no avail, she gathered her skirts in one hand and slipped out of her high heeled shoes in preparation for her flight and scooted out from behind the curtain. It was only then that she realized with some alarm that a large shadowy figure stood right in front of her, though given that she wasn't already captured, he likely hadn't realized that his prey (if indeed she was his prey) was so near.

Reacting without thought, Lois pivoted on one foot, raising the other in a roundhouse aimed at the stranger's solar plexus. It wouldn't disable him, but it might wind him enough to give her a few seconds' head start, which was all she was certain that she needed to get away.

Though she could have sworn he hadn't noticed her until her foot had almost made contact with his sternum, she didn't get a chance to follow through on her plan. Just before contact, two strong hands wrapped around the calf flung in front of her and twisted, using her body weight against her as her force of motion was extended beyond what she'd originally planned. Rather than kicking him in the sternum, Lois found herself flying through the air in an arc, to land rather ignominiously on the soft cushions of the bed, winded herself by the sudden move.

She was ashamed to admit that she'd blinked at least twice before she realized what had happened, and then she scrambled gracelessly towards the edge of the bed, grateful that, at least once this week, she hadn't incurred either new injuries or severe impacts to her old ones.

As she landed on the far side of the bed and crouched into a fighting stance, the lights were flicked on and Lois blinked quickly, trying to acclimate her eyes so she could finally caught her first sight of the man who'd flung her about so easily. He was tall, with dark brown hair and eyes, and he was throwing her an ironic smile. In a flash, she recognized him as an older version of the grave, serious little boy in the photo.

"Bruce Wayne, I presume?" she asked calmly as if they were just meeting casually at a party, such as the one she was ducking downstairs. It wasn't like she really had any other options; she could hardly deny the fact that he'd found her hiding in his bedroom and she'd tried to kick him for his trouble.

"Lois Lane," he replied, his smile growing with appreciation of her reaction, though she refused to express any surprise at discovering that he knew who she was. She did, however, find it slightly suspicious and he moved up at least a ranking on her list of suspects. "I imagined I would be seeing you soon, but I wouldn't have figured it would be in my bedroom."

Straightening, she offered him a wry grin of her own. If he wasn't going to mention the strangeness of the situation they were in, she certainly wasn't going to bring it up. Perhaps he'd let her go without a fuss, even given the circumstances of their encounter. "Well, I heard just about every other girl in Gotham was eager to be here. I thought I'd see what the fuss was all about."

His eyebrows arching, he replied dryly, "And has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"I suppose," she replied as she scooted around the corner of the bed, wondering how she could get to the door behind him without being caught. "I can see how the antique furniture would have appeal for those who are into that sort of thing. It's a little heavy for my taste, personally, so I think it's time for me to go see if the decorations in the other rooms are any better. If you'll excuse me…"

With that, she tried to scoot around him and make a break for it, but he was apparently going to allow her no such luck. Though he did move aside to let her past, he waited until her hand was on the doorknob to say, "Without getting what you came for?"

Pausing, Lois looked at him over her shoulder, knowing that he could read the suspicions she had of him on her face. When he didn't immediately offer more information, she turned and faced him levelly, refusing to show any emotion as she lifted her chin challengingly. "And what is that, exactly?"

She could see the corners of his mouth quirk as he replied, "I imagine you're here for the same reason you've been pretending to date Lex Luthor for the last few days…which I imagine has something to do with the sabotage that's been committed against his company of late. I also imagine that you snuck into my room tonight because you consider me a suspect and you were looking for evidence. Since I know that I'm _not _behind the sabotage, I know you didn't find anything, which means you're leaving here empty-handed. And I can't imagine that the same woman who was so confident when she told me she doesn't scare easily would give up so easily, just because she was caught in the act."

Lois frowned at his words. She could have sworn she'd never met him before, so when would she have told him that she didn't scare easily? Then it hit her. "The balcony. That was you?" He nodded his assent. "Well, as much as I enjoyed the tall, dark, and mysterious thing, it's a bit overdone, don't you think? You could have just come out and told me whatever it was you wanted to say without all the smoke and mirrors."

Bruce chuckled. "Would you have listened?"

"No," she admitted honestly. "But as I have no intention of listening anyway, you could have at least saved yourself some time."

He made a noncommittal sound. Then he asked, "So, after searching through my room, have you satisfied yourself that I'm not the bad guy here?"

She shrugged. "Not at all. You could still be the bad guy; you just might not hide your secrets in your underwear drawer."

"You don't give up, do you?" he asked, but he sounded at least as amused as he was exasperated when he did so.

"Not easily, like you said. But if you want to show me to your study, I'll have a look around there and let you know if I come to any conclusions."

When she saw him roll his eyes, she figured he was about to have her shown out, but instead he offered her his arm. At her surprised look, he explained, "If you're going to poke around the place, the very least I can do is lead the way."

He was charming, she had to give him that. Grudgingly. She was impressed – somewhat – with his apparent forthright manner. Of course, that didn't mean that she was going to relax her guard, but she did place her hand on his arm and let him lead her out the door. When the silence between them had stretched to a point bordering on uncomfortable, she commented, "You know, when you spoke to me on the balcony, you sounded like you thought I was really dating Lex. Now you're talking like you think it's all an act. Why the change?"

"Honestly? When I first read the reports, I thought you were exactly what you seemed to be – a vapid gold-digger who'd hang on the arm of Satan himself if it meant getting close to a bank account with enough zeroes." Lois briefly considered calling him on such a flattering assessment, but when she thought of the blonde downstairs, no doubt still prowling about the place in search of rich enough prey, she held her tongue. "It was only when I met you that I realized that there was more to you than it appeared on the surface, and that's when I started to dig a little deeper."

"And what did you find?" she asked, but he didn't answer long enough for her to realize he wasn't planning to. Whatever secrets the man on her arm had uncovered, he was keeping them to himself. In fact, he didn't say anything as he led her down a staircase in an area of the house away from where the party was centered and showed her into what was quite clearly his study – though a piano, oddly enough, was standing on the far side of the room.

Though he indicated she should feel free to poke around, Lois only gave a halfhearted, cursory glance around the room. If he had anything truly incriminating, he certainly wouldn't actually take her to the room in which it was stored and allow her to look around freely. Plus…well, as much as she wanted to remain a cynic, the longer she spent with him, the more she got a feeling deep in her gut that he wasn't the man she was looking for.

With a sigh, Lois turned and leaned against his desk, feeling a little deflated that her first attempt hadn't been more successful. From his position by the door, Bruce asked softly, "Giving up already?"

"Oh, we both know that if you have something you're hiding, you're hardly going to put it in such an obvious place and, at any rate, in a house this big, it would take me years to stumble across it." When he didn't say anything in response, merely fixing her with a grave look instead, she admitted grudgingly, "And it doesn't help that I don't think you're behind the attacks. I don't think you like him very much, but you strike me as the kind of guy who would fight his battles head-on instead of standing in the shadows, pulling some mercenary's strings." There was also something to be said for the fact that, if he'd planned to kill her as much as the saboteur did, she would be dead already. She decided not to mention that, however, because she didn't know if Bruce knew about that particular development (he seemed to know quite a bit more than he let on), and if he didn't, she wasn't about to tell him.

"I'm flattered. I think," he commented, and Lois straightened. Bruce didn't look like he was thinking of having her thrown out, now that she'd satisfied herself as to his relative innocence in this entire plot, but she wasn't particularly eager to stick around. She had others to investigate, and she didn't want to waste any time.

Seeing her stir, he finally moved, stepping forward to offer her his arm once more. Though she muttered excuses about having to leave, he placed her hand on his arm and shook his head, escorting her to the door as he spoke. "I'll show you out," he offered softly, but she suspected there was more to his offer than mere gallantry.

Her suspicions were confirmed as they were walking down the hall when he said, "Now that you've satisfied your curiosity about me, I was wondering if you could do the same for me." She turned and raised her eyebrows at him curiously, and he smiled softly. "I was wondering…Lois, from everything I've been able to discover, you're smart, fearless, and stubborn – and I've seen for myself how driven you are. I'm sure when this is all over, any number of people will believe without question that you were only doing your job, but, having met you…I can tell that there's something more driving you. There's something more you're searching for than a good story. I was wondering if you would tell me what it is."

For a moment, Lois considered telling him that it was none of his business, but when she met his eyes, the words died in her throat. The truth was that she didn't know him, but there was some part of her that felt that he could be trusted. And she so needed to talk to someone; she'd been avoiding Chloe, Clark, and even Mrs. Kent after everything that happened. But even as much as she tried to deny it, she felt like there was a huge weight pressing against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"I…I never intended it to go this far, to tell the truth. It was just…I had a meeting with a source, but I didn't want to go alone. So I took a friend of mine, and there was…there was an explosion." She couldn't speak for a moment, but he didn't rush to fill the silence. Instead, he waited until she looked back up at him and said, "I lost my best friend that day. And I know it's not…that there's more to it and that nothing's ever quite that simple, but I just…I can't get over the fact that one stupid mistake took my best friend away from me. And I hate him for that…whoever he is. So I just…I can't stop until I find him, until I make him pay for what he took from me."

Though she knew her words were misleading, in an odd way, they were truer than anything else she could have said. Yes, Clark was still alive, but the important thing was that she _did _feel like he'd been taken away from her, in some way. Not that he was gone for good and she'd never be able to speak to him again, but she felt like something important had been taken from her, nevertheless. Maybe that something important had been taken from the both of them.

She'd lost the faith and trust that she'd had in the people around her, but it felt like there was more to it. It was like…a part of her recognized that Clark had probably told the truth when he'd said he'd wanted to tell her about himself. And maybe he would have, someday. But now that moment had been taken from the both of them. He would never get the chance to find that "perfect" moment, the "perfect" way to tell her about himself. The moment when he realized he cared about her enough and trusted her enough to tell her his darkest secrets. More than she hated finding out that Clark had been keeping such a secret from her, more than she hated finding out that he had knowingly let her be hurt by keeping it when doing so had caused her such pain, it hurt that she didn't know that she'd ever really _know _that he trusted her with every part of himself, that he wanted her to know the man that he was. Instead, it was a decision forced upon the both of them, and so, even after the pain of the betrayal had faded, she suspected that the doubt would remain.

If Bruce read more into her eyes than she had said, he didn't remark on it. Instead, he stared at her steadily before reaching out to take both of her hands in his. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, almost unrecognizable from his usual tone, and there were no traces of the carefree playboy in his face. "Lois…we don't know each other very well, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but if you didn't take the advice I gave you before, I hope you listen to what I have to say now. I hope you find the man you're looking for, and you should know that you're not as alone as you think you are right now. But this pain that's inside of you…the desire to find justice that eats you up inside…at some point, if you don't find the man who murdered your friend, you need to realize that what you've done is enough. At some point, if you don't find what you're looking for, you have to let it go and forgive yourself for not doing more."

Though she opened her mouth to protest, he gave his head a swift shake, cutting her off. "No, listen to me. If you don't let it go…the pain will keep eating you up inside until there's nothing of yourself left. And then one day, you'll look at yourself in the mirror and what you see…you won't recognize it."

"And what did you see?" she whispered, thinking of the picture of the little boy upstairs and how there was only a shadow of him left in the face of the man before her.

"Something more…and something less," he answered cryptically before looking away. When he looked back, the playboy had returned and he gestured gallantly to the door. "I'd escort you home, of course, but then my guests would talk. Not that I'd mind, I suppose, but they'd probably drink all of my champagne too, and then Alfred would be furious with me."

Lois chuckled and let the moment go. She'd dwell on it later. Instead, she let a matching lightness into her voice as she grinned. "Somehow, I'll find a way to carry on through the disappointment," she said dryly. "It was…interesting meeting you, Bruce. Thanks for letting me crash your party…and rummage around your underwear drawer. I bet you don't hear that very often."

Bruce made a choking sound that could have been a laugh quickly stifled. "Actually, if I had a penny for each time I'd heard that, I'd be a billionaire." Then, after a brief pause, he said in mock surprise, "Hey, come to think of it…"

Laughing, Lois turned and left, shaking her head as she went. No, there was definitely more to Bruce Wayne then met the eye, she'd concluded, but she didn't think he was a saboteur under the surface. She'd have to keep trying.

As she got back in the car and drove back towards Metropolis, she mulled over everything she'd found out from Bruce, everything she didn't find out, and every cryptic question she now found herself faced with. It hadn't been the most productive evening in terms of her investigation, but it hadn't been entirely worthless.

It was late by the time Lois reached the outskirts of Gotham, and it would be later still by the time she reached Metropolis, but she found herself picking up her phone and staring at it with a frown anyway. She thought about what Bruce had said, that she wasn't alone. Of course, he couldn't know about the situation with her cousin, but it got her thinking anyway. Was it time for her to reach out to Chloe, to try to bridge the gap between them and put her resentment to rest?

Before the resentment could well up again and remind her of all the reasons she should throw the phone aside, Lois hit the number to speed dial her cousin and listened impatiently as the phone on the other end rang. On the third ring, it occurred to her that Chloe might be in bed, but just as she was about to give in to the excuse and hang up, she heard a voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello? Lois…?" Chloe sounded curious and more than a little anxious as she spoke, as if she was just waiting to get her head ripped off for having so much as said her cousin's name, and Lois felt a brief flash of regret that things had disintegrated so far. Of course, she wasn't entirely to blame, but she hadn't done much to improve things, either.

"Hey, Chloe," she said with forced warmth. She knew she didn't sound quite the way she used to, and the previous hurt didn't go away just because she had decided to try to bridge the gap. But at least it was a start. "Um…sorry it's so late," she added lamely.

"No, no! It's okay!" Chloe blurted quickly. "Um…what's up?"

In her seat, Lois shifted uncomfortably. What used to be so easy was now astonishingly painful. "Oh…well, I was just…I'm on my way back to Metropolis right now. I went…um…out of town earlier today to take care of some things. But I thought…when I get back, if you're up, maybe I could stop by to see you. Maybe we could talk."

There was almost something comforting in the thought that at least Chloe didn't sound any more comfortable than Lois as she replied eagerly, "Yeah, that would be great. Where are you now?"

"I'm just about to cross the Gotham Bri…what the hell?" Lois cut off as the high bright lights of a truck suddenly appeared to her left. She turned her head just in time to see a big black truck come barreling at her, with no time for her to get out of the way. Knowing she was about to be hit, Lois jerked her body to the right. The car door was about to be struck, and she wanted to get as far away from it as she could.

It wasn't even two seconds later that the second car slammed into the side of her vehicle, crumpling the side of her car and shoving it over to the right and into the metal railing that was intended to keep one's car from plummeting off the bride and into the water below. Her body was flung about like a ragdoll, jerking first to the right and then hurtling to the left again to slam against the now-crumpled door. As her car came to a halt, Lois lifted her head, and though the airbag had deployed, she still felt dazed. She'd probably knocked her head on the window or something.

As she gazed about blearily, she heard someone run up to her door and wrench it open. Though she'd expected the stranger to offer her some assistance, instead she was surprised by a bright light that her fuzzy brain took a moment to place as a camera flash. "Wha-?" she moaned as she turned towards the light and tried to move, but her legs felt like jelly and wouldn't cooperate.

"I got it, boss. What do you want me to do with her now?" a voice asked, and Lois felt a chill down her spine. She recognized his voice. Scar. Snarling, she reached out for him, but a hard hand clamped tightly around her wrist. Though she heard the tinny sound of a male voice though the cell phone Scar had pressed to his ear, she couldn't make out the words. She didn't need to wonder long what he had said, however, as Scar replied, sounding almost excited, "No problem, boss. It'll be fun to waste this bitch."

Lois felt Scar's fist slam into the side of her face, snapping her head to the side. Before the stars had quite faded, she heard the door slam shut and an engine rev. With her heart in her throat, Lois turned her head just in time to see the truck that had struck her back up and race forward again, to barrel into her vehicle once more.

Even with her somewhat fuzzy thinking, it wasn't hard to see what they were doing. Her car was teetering perilously over the edge of the bridge, one wheel already hovering in space. It wouldn't take much for the entire car to go over, sending her down to the bottom of Gotham Harbor.

There was obviously no way she could get out of her door, so Lois fumbled with her seatbelt as she heard her attacker's truck pull back again. Though she knew she had to get away, she turned one last time to try to get a glimpse of the license plate, hoping that they'd inadvertently given her just the clue she needed to track them down. She knew that later, she would wonder how they'd found her, but for now, she had to make sure she lived through this.

The seatbelt was finally unfastened so, as quickly as she could, Lois tried to scramble into the passenger's seat. As the truck struck her car with one more crushing impact, however, her body was flung back into the driver's side, and she heard the alarming creaking noises her car began to make as it swayed back and forth, clearly about to go over. There was no escape to be found through the passenger's door now, and in Lex's two-seater, there weren't a lot of other options. Given the pounding the truck was giving the driver's side of her car, she couldn't go there, but she didn't dare throw herself into the passenger's seat at this point, either, as even the slightest change in the car's balance would cause it to go over. The only option she really had at this point was the back seat, where Lois was going to have to strap herself in and hope for the best, because in just a couple of seconds, gravity would be denied no longer.

She didn't even have that long. As she scrambled awkwardly into the back seat, her thick skirts making what was a difficult chore even moreso, she caught sight of her phone, which had been tossed about in the commotion and had landed somehow miraculously on the rear floorboard. Its screen was black, the call with Chloe probably having disengaged at the first impact. Glancing desperately out the window, Lois dove for it. She didn't really know how she could help at this moment, but even as she fumbled with the seat belt, trying to fasten it around her, her shaking hands dialed Chloe's speed dial number the truck roared towards her one more time. Before she could get her buckle fastened and the phone engaged, the truck hit the side of her car, which could no longer withstand such damage. It went off the bridge sideways, flipping over in the air as it fell, and landed in the water with an enormous splash, Lois screaming all the way down.

If she lived through this, she knew she should probably wonder at some point why her screams of terror had sounded suspiciously like Clark's name.

Lois lost the first valuable seconds as she tried to orient herself after being flung about once more. By the time she'd figured out which way was up, the car was rapidly filling with water as it sank to the bottom of the harbor, and she didn't have much time left. "Oh, god," she whimpered as she knelt on the ceiling of the car and tried to crawl towards one of the windows. The rear windows weren't big enough – the large window in the back would probably not break easily she figured – so she had to make her way awkwardly back to the front seat, her skirts tangling around her legs and impeding her progress.

Dimly, she remembered hearing once that it was no use trying to open the car door until the car had filled entirely with water (and she didn't want to wait that long), so she'd have to break a window. "Oh, please," she continued to whimper as she swiveled around and kicked desperately at the glass, which rather maddeningly wouldn't break. Her movements were simply too dulled from the water which had already reached her sternum and was rapidly rising.

Again and again she kicked at the window, but her efforts were as effectual as running through quicksand. Finally, when the water was at her head, she was forced to take a deep breath before plunging beneath the icy surface to scoot towards the latch on the car door. Precious seconds ticked by as she was forced to wait for the car to fully fill with water, and then she was finally able to throw open the door and make good her escape.

Either due to her panic or the seconds she had lost, Lois knew suddenly that she wasn't going to make it to the bright lights of the city she saw above her as she tried to claw towards them through the black water. The gown she was wearing was weighing her down. She was tired, and sore, and she'd already been through so much. How could she survive this most recent struggle?

_Because you're Lois Lane! _The irritating voice that had once so annoyingly informed her she wasn't dead seemed like it wasn't willing to conceded defeat now. _You've been shot and stabbed and who knows what else already, and you're going to give up now just because it's a little hard?_

_No_, she told the voice as she renewed her struggles. She was so close. So close. She could almost make it. But not quite. _I'm not giving up. I never give up. _Even as the black fog closed in around the edges of her vision, she fought against the water. _I never stop fighting. _The fog had almost completely covered up the lights shining in the water above now. _That doesn't mean I don't sometimes lose._

And then, out of the darkness, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and give it a strong tug. As she fought the unconsciousness that was trying so hard to claim her, a hard arm wrapped around her waist as a hand cupped her jaw. She could barely process those two sensations when she felt a mouth descend upon her own.

Surprised by this sudden development, Lois tried to jerk away but she didn't get far. The arm that held her didn't let her go, but the hand on her chin pried her mouth open slightly and it was only then that she realized what the man who held her was trying to do as he breathed a deep breath into her mouth, giving her air. She sucked it in greedily, clutching his shoulders tightly as the darkness receded, and then with powerful kicks, he brought the two of them to the surface.

"Clark," she whispered as soon as the fresh air hit her face and was sucked into her burning lungs. She didn't have to look to know it was him; she'd known it from the moment his mouth had fallen against hers; maybe she'd even known it before. "P-please…don't go. Don't leave me," she breathed into his ear, her head falling against his shoulder as she was too exhausted to hold it upright any longer.

"It's okay," he told her as he pulled her tight against his body and swam for shore. "I've got you; you're safe. And I'm not going to let you go." Tucking her tight against his body as a shudder came over her, Clark carried her safely to shore, and it was either in a ghost of a whisper or a product of her imagination that had her thinking he added softly, "Ever again."


	18. Chapter 18: The Shadow of Light

**Chapter 18: The Shadow of Light**

By the time they'd made it to shore, Lois was feeling slightly better though she was still unwilling to let her savior go. "No," she murmured when it felt like he was about to release her. Her face was tucked against his neck, her body curled against his chest. Though she was beginning to feel slightly better after her ordeal, she continued to lie limply in his arms. Perhaps she should have asked him to put her down, all things considered, but she didn't. She was just so tired; her entire body ached after everything it had been through. For just this moment, for this brief period of time, she wanted to stay in the comfort and shelter of Clark's embrace. Later, she would remind herself of how he'd hurt her and she would resurrect that wall of sham indifference and invulnerability, but not now. She just didn't have the desire or the energy to do that just yet.

Clark tightened his hold on her and shifted her weight slightly. They were both wet and the cold evening air was giving her a chill, but with his arms around her, she didn't care. Keeping his voice in a low murmur, he said reassuringly, "Lois, I'm not going to leave you, but I have to put you down for a minute, okay? I want to look around to see if I can find any trace of the people who did this to you, and I don't want to put you in any more danger when I do so."

Her fingers dug into the wet cloth of his shirt, and she responded with a tiny moan of protest. Of course, she knew he was making sense. She knew she should let him look around, but she just didn't care. If he put her down, she knew that this moment – this feeling – would end. She would no longer have an excuse to leave her protective internal wall in a pile of rubble for a while. She would have to restore her emotional armor, replace her mask of indifference, and remember to keep him at arm's length once more.

Whether he understood her internal turmoil or thought that she was still feeling as weak and vulnerable as before, he didn't put her down. "Okay," he whispered, resting his cheek against her forehead. "It's okay, honey. I won't put you down."

His words triggered a memory, and she murmured automatically in response, "Clark, did you just call me honey?"

"Yes," he replied, and she tilted her head back to look him in the eye for the first time since he'd rescued her. He was looking at her with such tenderness that it took her breath away. Had he always looked at her with so much emotion in his eyes and she'd never noticed, or was this something new? She didn't know, and she was too scared of the answer to ask. Lifting one hand to her face, Clark brushed her sopping hair off her face, causing a shiver to travel down her spine. "I'll call you anything you want," he murmured softly. She felt herself turn instinctively into the warmth of the palm he rested tenderly against her cheek, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from his as he continued in a voice that was barely above a whisper but still resembled a plea, "Just don't leave me."

Lois didn't know who leaned in first, but she could feel the soft caress of his breath against her mouth. She was breathing him in, but unlike before, when she had merely taken from him, this time, she gave of herself in return. Just as she was breathing him, she knew that he was breathing her in. She wanted to bridge that gap between them, to stay in his arms like this forever. If only she could erase the past week, forget the memory that still lingered of how much she had hurt to have lost him and how little that pain had faded when she discovered the truth.

"Clark, I…" she breathed as she leaned into him, seeking to bridge that gap. The past wouldn't go away for long, she knew; her wounds had not yet healed. When she felt the brush of his lips against her own, as soft as a prayer, she gave herself over to the moment, grasping the soaked fabric of his shirt in one hand as the arm she'd thrown over his shoulders curved around his neck and held him tight.

If only the moment and that gentle, almost tentative embrace could last forever, but even as her lips brushed against his, a flash of light pressed against the back of her eyelids. When her eyes flew open in surprise, she saw the light in a streetlamp nearby flicker on and off, struggling to wage a losing battle against the oppressive darkness around them – it was odd that a light that seemed so ineffectual could have produced a flash so bright. However, what little and inconstant light it was able to emit spilled over the couple embracing on the shore, and though it was such a little thing with absolutely no import, Lois gave a cry of alarm against Clark's lips.

Every memory she'd been holding at bay in an attempt to prolong this idyllic moment came flooding back with a force that left her trembling in its wake. Her heart began to race, beating against her ribs. Her breathing became rapid and shallow as her body started to shake. Though she squeezed her eyes shut and curled further into Clark's embrace, she was given no relief as images pressed against the back of her eyelids, tormenting her.

She remembered light and pain, fire and fear. Though there was a part of her that knew she was safe in Clark's arms, in her mind, she was being lifted to the sky before being flung to earth again, a dove with a broken wing. Clark's arms were as strong and implacable as steel as they tightened around her, his body bending protectively over hers.

"N-no, don't!" she cried when he took a step forward. Her eyes were locked on his, and she could see his confusion. He didn't understand what had caused her sudden panic, and he was trying to do what he could to alleviate it, but he didn't realize that moving further into the light made her anxiety worse.

She tried to get a hold of herself. It was stupid, and she knew it. It was just a streetlamp, inanimate and harmless. Light, she knew rationally, had no power over her. But logic had no place in her world at the moment. The voice of reason was drowned out by the terror that washed over her, the voice that told her with absolute certainty that the light was going to rip her away from Clark again. This time, however, it wouldn't fail. Clark would bleed and die while she was left helpless to stop it.

But that didn't make sense. Clark wasn't injured; he wasn't about to die! In her mind, however, present and past clashed until she couldn't tell the difference between the two. She wasn't remembering what had happed on that early morning at the broken-down warehouse. She was reliving it, over and over.

"Clark," she moaned miserably. He needed her, but he was right here. He was bleeding to death, but he was holding her in his arms. Tearing her eyes away from his face, she looked past him to the light, bracing herself as she waited for the fire and heat and pain.

Then the light above her flickered once more, erupted in a hail of sparks, and went out, leaving Lois breathless and trembling as darkness fell over them. Her eyes focused once more on the man bending over her, and she saw the concern in his eyes. "Lois?" That one word demanded quite a bit and betrayed more than its speaker may have intended.

It was also more than Lois could process as she struggled to control her breathing and calm her racing heart. "C-Clark? W-what…?" she stammered vaguely.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, his gaze searching her face for something.

Sagging into his embrace, Lois heaved a shuddering breath. She didn't know what had come over her – it seemed so absurd even now – but she definitely wasn't ready to talk about something she couldn't even begin to explain. "I…I'm cold," she said instead, clumsily ducking the question.

The tense silence that fell in the wake of this remark made it clear enough that Clark found this response insufficient, but he didn't press the point. "Okay," he said finally, his voice softening once more. "Hold on tight, and I'll get you out of here. I'm going to run really fast though, so don't freak out or anything."

She began to nod when he took off and her head had barely completed the motion when he stopped once more. Lois had known that he had extraordinary speed; he'd told her as much when he'd confessed about his powers and had proven as much when he'd snuck into Luthor Mansion to see her. Still, she hadn't realized just how fast he could move or how breathtaking it would be to be carried in his arms when he did so. Though she knew she should maintain her dignity even in this situation, she couldn't quite squelch her softly breathed, "Wow."

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows quirked as he stared down at her.

With the corner of her lower lip sucked between her teeth, her head moved in a mechanical and yet completely unconscious nod of assent. Then, realizing she was staring at him like a lovesick calf, Lois cleared her throat abruptly and gave her head a more briskly emphatic nod. "Yes," she said forcefully, as if the strength of her tone now could erase her previous infatuation. "Yes, of course," she repeated even more emphatically, just in case he'd missed her no-nonsense attitude before.

And yet, she still did not ask that he release her as he carried her through the front door of a large house she didn't recognize. "Where…?" she began.

"It's one of Ollie's places," Clark explained in a tone of half-apology as his long legs ate up a long flight of stairs to the upper floors. "He's been letting me use it since…well, I can't go back to my apartment right now."

Since the world thought he was dead, Lois finished for him mentally. Of course. It was a wise precaution; just because Lex had been told that Clark was dead didn't mean that he necessarily believed it. "I see," she said gravely. "And I'm here because…?"

Her leading question prompted an entirely unsurprising answer. "Because you've just been in a car accident in which you almost drowned. Someone just tried to kill you, and, in fact, they almost succeeded. So you're out of your mind if you think I'm letting you leave here until I'm absolutely certain that you're okay."

Bristling at his tone, she pulled as far away from his face as the embrace of his arms would allow. "Oh, yeah?" she demanded with a defiant arch of her left eyebrow. "And how exactly do you propose to stop me if I decide I want to go?"

"Lois," he said softly as he looked back down at her. "Please. I just need to make sure you're okay, all right? I almost…_we _almost lost you. I know you can take care of yourself, but could you please let me take care of you, just this once?"

Damn. He would have to go for an earnest plea. A He-Man gesture would have been so much easier for her to refuse. With a shrug of her shoulders, she agreed sullenly, "I do want a bath. I guess I could stay for tonight, but I can't promise anything more than that."

Clark merely grunted in reply, and she let out a small sound of protest when she felt him bend to put her down. It was only then that she realized he'd taken her to an opulent – though clearly unused – bedchamber, where he was placing her gently into a plush chair. As she took a quick glance in mild surprise, he knelt on the ground in front of her and took her hands in his, chaffing them gently.

"You're freezing," he said, which was only when she realized that her hands and feet were like ice and her teeth had begun to chatter the moment Clark had removed the warmth of his arms.

"I-I'll be okay," she said with a shaky smile. "I just n-need a h-hot bath."

His eyes were a dark shade of blue as he gazed at her in concern. "All right," he said tenderly. "Well, the bathroom's through that door." Clark said with a nod in the direction of the door in question. "I should make a few phone calls; I'm sure there are a number of people who are feeling pretty frantic right now. If you need me, my bedroom's just next door, okay? Do you want me to start the water running for you?"

Lois shook her head. "N-no. Thanks," she said sheepishly and then waited for him to leave before she stood and began the laborious chore of getting undressed.

Back in his bedroom, Clark ran agitated fingers through his still damp hair and took a few deep, calming breaths. He'd managed to hide his emotions when he'd been with Lois, he thought, but now that he was in the privacy of his bedroom, he couldn't pretend any longer.

He'd been so terrified, when he'd gotten the phone call from Chloe, telling him that she thought Lois was in danger. To think that he'd almost decided not to pick up the call…But things had been tense between himself and Chloe, ever since that day at her apartment. They'd talked a few times since then, but the conversation was always stilted and almost uniformly uncomfortable. In the end, a part of him had wondered if avoiding her calls wouldn't make things just a little bit easier until everything blew over, and so when he'd seen her number on his caller ID earlier, he'd almost given in to the temptation to let it go to voicemail.

He didn't know why he'd resisted the impulse, what instinct had caused him to brace himself and pick up the phone instead, but from the frantic note in the voice on the other end of the line, he'd immediately forgotten the animosity between them. "Clark?" Chloe had cried desperately. "You've got to do something! I think Lois is in trouble!"

"What happened?" he'd demanded, the immediate past temporarily forgotten in the light of this statement. Of course, the thought that Lois might be in danger had been nothing new; he'd known as much ever since he'd seen the footage of her kissing Lex in the back yard of the Luthor Mansion. The panic in her cousin's tone, however, had made it clear that there was something more going on.

Speaking in a rush that made her words run together, she'd blurted out her story. She'd been on the phone with her cousin when she heard Lois cry out. Then, there had been a sound of metal crunching against metal and the line had gone dead. Although she'd tried to call back, nobody had picked up the phone.

Clenching his own phone so tightly that the plastic was starting to crack, Clark had barked, "Where is she?"

"I-I don't know," had come the frantic reply. "I think she said she was somewhere in Gotham, but I –" If Chloe had finished her sentence, Clark hadn't hear it. He'd been gone before the words were even out of her mouth, speeding as fast as he could through the streets Metropolis.

Even now, he couldn't explain why his sense of foreboding increased with every step as he listened intently to find Lois, why he became more and more convinced by the second that he would arrive too late. The bone-deep certainty had continued to grow, however, until he'd been almost overcome by blind panic.

And then it had happened. Clark heard Lois call his name from afar and he curled his body, lowering his center of gravity as his legs coiled beneath him. And then, with a springing motion that shot him into the sky, he was off, flying through the heavens towards the sound of her strangled cry.

The wind tore past his face, whipping through his hair at almost deafening velocity. In another time, he would probably have panicked over his situation. He had hovered before, of course – he'd done so with Lois in his arms, in fact. But, save for that one time when he'd been "Kal-El" and not Clark, he'd never _flown _before, never consciously made the decision to rip through the sky with single-minded purpose.

He'd always been afraid of heights, so he should have been terrified – and he was, but it wasn't for himself. He heard the splash of water, heard Lois's cry break off, and he flew harder and faster than he'd ever have dreamed possible, to get to her.

And then, unfortunately, came the landing, for which Clark had been extremely unprepared. Perhaps if he'd ever actually practiced flying, he would have been able to manage a graceful descent, diving straight towards the ground so that his body would have cut through the water like a dolphin, fluid and graceful. Instead, he'd plummeted towards the earth with all the grace of a cannonball, to belly flop on the water with a force that would have taken an ordinary man's breath away.

It didn't matter. It _hadn't _mattered. What had mattered was seeing Lois in the water, the weight of her skirts dragging her down as she clawed desperately for the surface. Even he had been able to see she wouldn't make it, so he acted without thinking, taking the hand extended his way. With his fingers laced in hers, he'd dragged her close. His mouth pressed against hers, he gave her breath, helping to fight off the darkness with a part of himself before towing her to the surface.

Everything had happened so fast, and in retrospect, it felt rather like a dream. Had he really held her in his arms and kissed her? Had she really kissed him back?

But, of course, the moment hadn't lasted forever. What was it, he wondered, that had caused her inexplicable panic? One minute, she'd been kissing him; the next, she was clutching onto him in fear that was almost palpable. The look on her face, the terror etched into every one of her features, had broken his heart. When he saw her look past him at the light above, he'd simply reacted, throwing his own head back and using heat vision to burn out the light.

Why her fear had faded as darkness descended upon them again, he couldn't say. Perhaps she was simply relieved that any assailants, if still in the area, would have a harder time focusing on the pair of them as they stood on the shore. He didn't know for sure, and she wasn't telling. But at least she'd calmed down, the lines of her face softening as she curled into him once more.

Still, when he thought about how close he'd been to losing her…Running a hand over his face, Clark reminded himself that she was there; she was safe. That was all that mattered.

As he was trying to reassure himself of this fact, he heard a soft sound outside his door and dropped his hand to his side, doing what he could to school his expression when he heard the light knock on his door. "Come in," he called, his voice deceptively steady, given his most recent thoughts.

The door cracked open a bit, and Lois poked her head inside, throwing him an awkward smile before more boldly stepping into the room. She looked absolutely adorable, he had to admit, her body completely engulfed in the fluffy white robe and her feet bare. One look at her face, though, and he could see she still looked pale and drawn, with shadows under her eyes. "I…um…I was wondering if you had any coffee brewed. I'd die for…" She paused, throwing him an agonized look. "I-I mean, I'd really love some if you have any."

"Sure," he said with a causal smile, though he too had winced at her poorly chosen words. "I'll run downstairs and make some. Do you want me to find you some clothes first, or…?"

"No, that's okay," she said quickly. "I'll just take a look around and be downstairs in a few minutes."

He stepped towards her, but she took a step away in response, her face angled away from his, and he knew the moment of connection and closeness they'd shared earlier had passed. Clenching his hands into fists at his sides, he considered for a moment pressing her for more, demanding that she stop taking two steps back for every step forward she allowed him. But, in the end, he swallowed his words and gave her a nod of surrender.

He wouldn't demand anything of her; he could simply ask and patiently wait for her to give him what she could. For years, he'd demanded so much of Lana – so much from Chloe, as well, but he'd finally learned from his mistakes. If his relationship with Lois, their friendship, was ever going to be repaired, it would only happen with patience. He had to accept what she was willing to give him without pressing for more – _showing _her that he was worthy of her trust again, not _demanding _that she return it to him unquestioningly.

It was going to be difficult to be patient and bide his time, but to regain her trust and friendship…it would be worth the wait. "Okay," he said with false lightness. "I'll have the coffee ready by the time you get down there." Yes, it was hard, but when he saw the grateful glance she threw him, he couldn't regret the choice he'd made.

Lois took less time than he'd expected. When she jogged downstairs a few minutes later, she was wearing, not the plaid shirt he so fondly remembered her in, but a plain white t-shirt and light grey shorts. Though he wondered privately whose room she'd found them in – his or the spare room of Ollie's that his host rarely if ever used – he didn't ask. And, in the end, it didn't really matter, since any clothes he had at his disposal at present were on loan from Ollie as well. It hadn't been deemed safe for him to return to his own apartment to pack a bag.

"Here you go," he said, shoving a mug towards her. "Just the way you like it. No cream and six suga-hold on." The phone had started to ring, interrupting his quiet moment, and he turned to pick it up.

"Oh…hey, Chloe," he said, unsurprised to receive the call. He'd tried calling her as he put on the pot of coffee, but her line had been busy so he'd left a message instead. Of course, the few details he'd left on the machine hadn't been enough for her, and it was only natural that she'd want more.

"Clark?" Chloe cried, "Oh, thank god! Sorry I didn't get your call earlier, but I was on the phone with Ollie. I hadn't heard from you, and I was beginning to panic!"

"No, no, it's okay," he responded calmly, hoping to allay her fears. At her prompting, he told her how he'd saved Lois (leaving out the rather complicated bit about him flying and the kiss he'd exchanged with Lois once they'd reached the bank). He didn't mention how Lois had panicked afterwards; if Lois wanted anyone to know, it was her business to tell.

When he'd finally finished, Chloe offered to come over to help out, but Clark gently turned her down. "It's getting pretty late," he said apologetically. "And Lois has been through a lot today. Why don't you come over tomorrow morning and we can…we can all talk."

Even as he made the offer, he exchanged a glance with Lois to see an expression on her face that mirrored his own. There were so many walls between the three of them; so many chasms that had yet to be crossed. That they were working on trying to amend things between them was at least a step in the right direction, but these first few steps were always the hardest. Chloe, it seemed, would have to be patient with them both, just as he would have to be patient with her.

A charged silence filled the air once he'd finished his telephone call. Clark wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say. For her part, Lois was fixing him with a dubious glance, as if she too wanted to speak but she wasn't sure she really wanted to break the silence.

"So…" he began, though he let the sentence trail off when he realized he had no idea how to finish it. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Um…are you tired? Do you want to go to bed now, or…?"

"N-no," she answered awkwardly. "I don't think I could sleep right now, at any rate."

"Okay," he agreed, then lapsed into silence that was no longer charged but was distinctly painful.

Finally, she threw him a lifesaver. "Um…so…h-have you guys found out anything on that list I gave you? Or, rather, those lists?"

He was so grateful that she'd sent out the rescue that he grinned widely at her. "Yeah, actually. Well…I suppose it would be more accurate to say no, not really. I mean, we've looked into almost everyone on those lists and we haven't found anything incriminating. Nothing to suggest that they're the ones behind the sabotage, at least. Have you had any luck?"

She frowned, gesturing for Clark to take a seat on the stool next to her. Not one to press his luck, he didn't comment as he did so, gratified when she turned her body towards his and leaned forward slightly as she divulged, "Not much. Nothing very useful, at least. My plan doesn't seem to be working out as well as I'd hoped it would." Her voice was distinctly disappointed as she confessed this.

Smiling reassuringly, Clark unthinkingly reached forward to place his hand upon hers where it lay on the table. Though he heard her suck in her breath at the sudden contact and felt her muscles tense, she didn't jerk her hand from under his. Feeling abashed at having so quickly gone against his intentions to give her time, however, he pulled his own hand away, saying quickly to cover the uncomfortable moment, "Well, maybe together we've found out more than we realize. Maybe…why don't we go over everything we know from scratch and piece it all together? I mean, we've been so close to everything; maybe we'll see more if we take a step back from it all."

He watched as she gnawed her lip a moment thoughtfully. "You think…?" she asked vaguely, her mind clearly on other matters. Finally, she sighed and grimaced at him as she shifted her body away from his, saying flatly, "No. I don't think so. I don't want to get you involved in this…or Chloe. This is _my _investigation, and…"

"_Your _investigation?" Clark demanded, glowering at her. "Damn it, Lois, when are you going to figure out that you're not alone?"

"I am alone!" she retorted back. "Do I really need to remind you of that?"

"You're not alone," he snapped angrily. "You're just stubborn, and you're going to get yourself killed!"

She scoffed. "I can take care of myself, thanks. I don't need you to…"

"Fish you out of the river?" he snarled, cutting her off, and he received a glare in return. "Or was I mistaken earlier, and you had just decided to go for a pleasant evening swim in the waters of Gotham Harbor while dressed in a ballgown?"

Spluttering, she shot back, "Y-you…you…You're out of line! I was doing just _fine _without you! In another minute I'd have been…"

"Dead!" he cried again. "You'd have been _dead_, Lois! When are you going to face that? When are you going to admit that you _can't do this alone_?" Though she opened her mouth to comment, he cut her off. "Okay, since you're doing fine on your own, tell me this. What are you going to do next?"

"I-I…I don't know! But I'll think of something!" she responded though her glare grew even more chilling. "And whatever it is, it's none of _your _business!"

With a smirk he knew would drive her insane, he said, "Until you need me to save your life."

The smirk fell off his mouth and a tense silence fell between them after she snarled back, "Or we need someone to fake their own death?"

Finally, Clark spoke up again, and this time, he made sure to keep his voice steady, devoid of emotion. "We can help you, Lois," he said softly, a reminder instead of a reprimand. "Why won't you let us help you?"

Lois's jaw clenched, and she didn't speak right away. Finally, she said in a tone imitating his, "I don't need your help."

He wanted to argue, but it wasn't getting him anywhere. Clearly, he was going to have to approach this problem from another side. "Okay, fine. So you don't need our help. But wouldn't it be at nice to at least talk to someone about everything? Maybe it would help you put things into perspective, see something you've possibly overlooked."

With a heavy sigh, Lois finally said grudgingly, "Well…fine. I guess it wouldn't hurt to run some things by you guys while I brainstorm about _my _next step. So, where do you want to start?"

Though he wanted to protest at the emphasis on her last remark, he didn't want to antagonize her again so soon. She seemed willing to compromise, at least a little. When he spoke next, his voice was tentative, as if he was loathe to make the suggestion. "I think…I think we should start at…at the beginning. Don't you?"

"The beginning? You mean that night?" Then her head ducked and she mumbled words so low he almost didn't pick them up and when he did, he still wasn't sure it was what she'd said, "The light that changed everything." Before he could ask her to repeat her words, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and gazed defiantly at him, her jaw set. "Sure," she said with what he thought sounded like false bravado. "It'll probably be a huge waste of time, but if it's what you want… Let's start there."

Was that really all it took? Was she really finally ready to let him close enough to her to accept his help? No, she hadn't given in without a fight, but there was no blood shed, so he figured he got off relatively easily. If that was the worst she had in store for him, he had to wonder what had prompted her change of heart. He wasn't sure he knew, but he sure as hell wasn't going to risk rocking the boat by asking. Still, seeing the shadow that crossed her face when she thought back to that evening, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure you're okay with…with going back over the details of what happened?"

Arching her eyebrows at him, Lois threw him her patented cocky smirk. "You think I'm afraid or something, Kent? That'll be the day!" she bragged, shrugging off his words. Though he'd have sworn a few moments ago that she was reluctant to dredge everything up again, it was clear that she'd decided that doing so would serve their best interests. And once set on a path, Lois didn't let much slow her down, not even her personal reservations.

As if annoyed at his continued reluctance when she'd decided on a course of action, Lois rolled her eyes and jumped to her feet, a bundle of energy where she'd been a mass of exhaustion mere moments before. "Come on, Smallville; don't just sit there! If we're going to indulge in this waste of time, we might as well get started!" she barked as she started moving around in a flurry of activity. So preoccupied was she on her task, he wondered if she realized she'd even used the affectionate name. Apparently not, because she began searching through drawers as she rambled, "I'll find some paper and pens; we'll want to make notes. You should make another pot of coffee. I wouldn't be surprised if we were up all night working on this! I'll get started with the…"

As she rattled on, Clark rose slowly to his feet and began to do as she directed. It was amazing, he reflected, how many emotions this woman had put him through in a single day. From absolutely panic that he might lose her to mind-numbing relief that she was okay. From despair that he would never be able to bridge the gap between them to hope that he was already closer than he ever could have hoped.

After all, twenty-four hours before, he doubted she'd ever let him help her with her investigation – at least, not to the extent of actually working with him. She certainly didn't seem inclined to call him "Smallville," let alone kiss him. And she had kissed him, though she'd clearly taken an emotional step backwards after she'd done so – and now she still seemed more inclined to fight with him than anything else. But he couldn't forget that they _had _taken a step forward. She might snarl at him more often than she smiled at him, but at least now she was willing to sit with him at her side without pushing him away.

It wasn't much. But it was definitely a start.


	19. Chapter 19: Toil and Trouble

**A/N:** This took far too long and probably could use a bit more editing, but, hey...it's a long-overdue update!!

**Chapter 19: Toil and Trouble**

When Lois awoke, she found herself curled up on a plush couch, a pillow tucked under her head and a blanket thrown over her body. With a yawn, she sat up and stretched, taking mental inventory of both the new injuries and the ones that would heal, if only given an opportunity to do so. Maybe she'd manage to go a full twenty-four hours without adding any more bruises, cuts, fractures, or the like to what was a rapidly growing collection. Then again, with the way her week was going, the odds on her accomplishing such a feat seemed incredibly small.

As she stifled a yawn, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Chloe enter the room, an anxious expression on her face. "Hey, Lois," she said, her voice quavering a little.

Lois felt a rush of conflicting emotions, from joy at seeing her cousin to anger at the betrayal that still hurt. But she had resolved the night before to try to fix this rift between the two of them; she should have known it wasn't going to be easy.

"Hey, Chloe," she responded, trying to sound welcoming. Then, seeing her cousin was still lurking in the doorway, she added, "Come on in."

"I brought you some clothes!" the petite blonde said brightly as she strode towards the couch, still eyeing Lois as she would a dog she thought might bite. Her voice taking on an apologetic tone, she said, "They're not that great, I know, but I didn't have much that I thought might fit you."

"I'm sure they're fine," Lois replied gratefully as Chloe took a seat. Her ball gown, ruined by the water of the Gotham Harbor, hadn't been fit for her to continue to wear, so she was still wearing some of Clark's clothes and feeling fairly awkward about it. Then the two girls stared at each other in tense silence until Lois spoke again, "So…how've you been?"

"Fine. I've been working pretty hard on that list you gave Clark! You?" Chloe asked and then grimaced at the question, asked more from habit than anything else.

Trying to relieve her cousin's discomfort, Lois said jokingly, "Oh, you know, the usual! Last night, I got bored at this party I went to so I decided to go for a late night swim. I should probably have changed out of the dress first and into something a little more suitable, but you know me! I never think ahead that far!"

A weak laugh met her rather lame attempt at humor. Then, sobering, Chloe cleared her throat and and anxiously began, "Listen…Lois…about what you said at – at the apartment. I just wanted to say that I –"

"Morning ladies!" Ollie's cheerful voice carried over to them from the doorway, and they turned as he entered the room. He was holding a cardboard carrier in his hands; Lois could see the familiar Starbucks logo gracing the side of the four travel cups it held. Glancing between the two of them, he paused. "Er…I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Lois and Chloe exchanged a look. "No, it's okay. We can continue our talk later," the latter said as she jumped to her feet. "Here, let me help you with that," she said quickly as she grabbed the carrier from his hands.

"Thanks," he told his companion as she handed him a cup and turned to pass one to Lois. "Hey, where's Clark?"

"He said he was going to run and get break – Oh, here he is now!" Chloe said brightly at the sound of the front door slamming.

Lois couldn't explain her inexplicable awkwardness as she jumped to her feet and tugged ineffectually at her shirt, trying to make herself look presentable. After everything she'd been through, the long night the night before, and a short nap on the couch, she knew she had to look pretty terrible. Her appearance wasn't likely to be much improved by a mere wipe of her hand. But she was still trying to surreptitiously put herself to rights when Clark walked in holding a white bag stamped with the name of a nearby deli. "Morning guys," he said brightly. When he turned to Lois, his expression softened and he added with a warm smile, "Lois."

"I…uh…I'll be right back," she mumbled, her face flushing. She was normally so self-possessed. Why was she acting like an awkward teenager all of a sudden, just because Clark was in the room?

Ollie's expression was a little too knowing for her peace of mind as he smirked over at her. Glaring at him in return, she swore she'd make him eat that grin…later. For now, she had to do what she could to make herself presentable.

So instead, with a muttered thanks, she grabbed her cup of coffee and the clothes Chloe had brought her and raced towards the bedroom Clark had brought her to the night before. "I won't be long," she promised as she left.

In the bathroom, she took one glance at her appearance and prayed for spontaneous human combustion to be proven a reality. Oh, god, Clark had seen her like _this_? The way her clothes dwarfed her was bad enough; the rest of the picture was hardly any better. Not only did it look like birds _could _rest in her hair; it looked like they frequently had taken her up on the offer to do so. Without makeup, her bruises were the stuff nightmares were made of. All in all, she doubted one more shower was going to make a dent on the picture she presented.

Twenty minutes later, Lois walked back into the living room to face the rest of the group. She felt a little bit better, being in regular clothes that more or less fit her. Lois swept her hair back into a ponytail before grabbing the bagel off the plate in front of her. "Thanks," she mumbled sheepishly to Clark.

"No problem," he answered. After a brief pause, he added, "Sorry about the couch. I tried to move you to the bedroom last night after you fell asleep, but…you weren't thrilled with the idea."

"He's trying not to tell you that you hit him," Ollie piped in, passing her a fresh cup of coffee.

"I…what?" she asked as she turned to Clark in surprise. "I hit you?"

"Thanks, Ollie," he muttered darkly before saying more loudly, "Yeah, well…you seemed pretty determined to stay where you were, at least."

Chloe, clearly sensing that the conversation may be about to take an left turn down a dark alley, broke in, "So…hey! We've been talking about your investigation. Clark was about to fill us in on everything the two of you talked about last night about where you two are."

"Oh?" Lois asked politely as she took a seat on the nearby stool and took a fortifying sip of coffee. Over the brim of her mug, she arched an eyebrow challengingly over at Clark. She thought she'd made it pretty clear the night before that _her _investigation wasn't going to become _their _investigation.

Clark looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, they have been looking into the names on those lists you gave me."

Chloe looked like she wasn't sure if she'd stuck her foot in her mouth or not. "Anyway, uh…we figured there was no point in going over the same ground twice, so if there are any new developments that might help us narrow the list down…"

Lois sighed. "Not really," she answered the question Chloe hadn't entirely asked. "I can tell you that Bruce Wayne probably isn't our guy, but anything other than that…" She shrugged.

"Do you remember anything more about the men that attacked you last night?" Clark's eyes flashed as he asked the question, and she watched the muscles in his neck flex as he clenched his jaw. His anger wasn't directed at her but at a memory, she knew, and she couldn't quite find it in her to push him away – at least not on this.

Answering the question wasn't so easy, however. The memory had haunted her the night before, as she'd tried to get some sleep, but it was harder to recall all the details in the light of day. Everything had happened so quickly. She remembered the flash of headlight. She remembered the crunching of metal against metal; she remembered pain. She remembered the terror that had overwhelmed her when she'd realized she was going to die.

"I-I'm not sure…" she said slowly. "I didn't really see their faces. It was so dark…" She tried to remember anything – any detail that could help them – but there was nothing. Nothing she could remember, at any rate.

"It's okay," Clark said softly, reaching out for her hand. "We'll figure something out."

"But how did they know where you were?" Ollie interjected.

"That's right!" Chloe cried. "I mean, none of us knew you were in Gotham. Who did know where you were there?"

Lois frowned. The thought had occurred to her the night before, but she'd been too exhausted to rally piece it together. "Nobody," she answered. At their skeptical expressions, she shook her head. "Really! I didn't even know I was going go to go to Gotham yesterday until I'd already left. It was just by chance that I decided to go at all. Nobody knew I was going to go there; not even me."

"But they did know you were there," Chloe pointed out. "That couldn't have been by chance."

"You were driving one of Luthor's cars last night, right?" Ollie suggested. "Do you think he had a GPS tracker on it?"

"It's possible," Lois admitted. "Knowing his paranoia, I wouldn't put it past him. But I honestly don't think the saboteur is a set-up. Don't get me wrong; there's not much I'd put past Lex. I just don't think he's behind any of this."

"Still, it's a place to start." Lois had never heard Clark sound so decisive. "Anyway, we should have someone check out the car before Luthor gets a chance to get to it. It's a long-shot, but you never know; the attackers might have left some clues behind. Ollie, can you get in touch with A.C.?"

Oliver nodded. "I'm on it. Do you want me to have him check to see if he can find a tracer while he's at it?"

Chloe shook her head. "If he finds one, sure, but those things can be small and hard to find. I'll see if I can dig up any information. If Lex does have a GPS tracker on his car, the information will go through an outside security company before it's sent to him. If he's using a company, it shouldn't be hard to find."

"Good idea," Lois cut in. "But, you know, it's always possible they just followed me yesterday when I left the mansion. After seeing those photographs, I tried to keep watch for that kind of thing, but I suppose it's possible that they switched cars a couple of times along the route or something."

There was a brief pause before Clark prodded gently, "Photographs?"

Well aware that she'd said too much, Lois frowned and shook her head. "They're not important, really."

"Lois, I –" he began to argue.

"Really, Clark. Can we drop it? Now isn't the time." Just thinking of the pictures she'd seen, the thought that someone had gotten that close to her and photographed her without her knowledge, still made her feel scared and slightly in need of a shower. "Anyway, we've got too much to do to worry about something like that. Any chance we can try at least to get a hold of any security footage from the traffic cams or something? If someone was following me last night, maybe they got caught on camera."

"I can get on that when I'm finished with everything else," Chloe offered, but Ollie nixed her idea.

With a shake of his head, the blonde billionaire said, "No, you've got too much on your plate. I think it's a good idea to keep checking into those names, and that's a time-consuming process. I also think you should move the people on Lex's staff up the list. You never know; someone who works for him could be slipping information to his saboteur."

"Exactly. And given that someone tried to kill Lois last night, I don't think we should waste any more time than we have to," Clark concurred.

Lois scoffed. "Please. People try to kill me just about every day. If I'm not going to get panicked over them, I don't see any reason to start now." Nobody else in the room seemed to appreciate her rather macabre streak of humor, because they all glowered at her.

Finally, Ollie spoke, shattering the tension in the room. "Anyway, Chloe. I think it'd be best if you stayed on that list; you've been the fastest at working your way through it so far. I know a guy in Gotham. He's a bit…unorthodox, but I think I can call in a favor."

"Ollie, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that suggestion," Chloe interjected. "Someone did try to kill Lois last night, and we don't know who's behind it. It could have been anyone, so I'm not sure it's a good idea to bring in someone else on this right now…particularly someone we don't know or trust."

"I understand your concern, Chloe, but believe me,. I wouldn't suggest going to him if I didn't think we could trust him. Besides," he said as she began to protest again, "Gotham is his turf. Nothing goes on there without him knowing about it, and not even you're good enough to fly in under this guy's radar. If we start looking into the security footage in Gotham, he's going to know about it, he'll find out why, and he'll probably start an investigation of his own. Hell, knowing him, he's already a step ahead of us and we're wasting our time arguing."

Lois chuckled. "If this guy is everything you say he is, what makes you think he's wasting his time looking into our little problem? After all, Gotham's not exactly known for its low crime rate. Why would one more car going into the river be that big of a deal?"

Ollie looked bemused as he glanced over at her. "You don't know my friend. I don't even know that much about him; we've only met a couple of times when I went to Gotham with some friends of mine on…ah…other business. But trust me. I don't know how he does it, and I don't ask questions, but when you went into that river last night, he heard about it. He's not the type to let someone get away with something like that in his city, either."

She almost made a joke, but just as she opened her mouth to do so, she remembered something Bruce had said to her. "I'm not as alone as I think…" she mumbled softly. Of course, he couldn't have known what would happen to her last night – or the people who would come to help her get to the bottom of the matter in the morning. Still, there was something comforting about discovering that maybe he'd been right.

"What?" Clark asked.

"Nothing. It's just…nothing," she replied.

"All right, so we're looking into his staff, the car itself, and the security footage. Sounds like a pretty good start. So what's next?" Chloe asked.

"I'll tell you what's next," Lois responded as she jumped to her feet. "I go to the next name on my list." As she expected, her comment was met by a flood of protest. "It's not a negotiation, guys. I appreciate everyone's help, but I'm not about to take a backseat on this just because I have backup."

"Lois, I –" Clark began to protest.

She cut him off. "How many times do we have to do the same song and dance on this, Clark? You haven't won the argument the last hundred times you've tried it. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"I get increasingly more persuasive the more times I say something?" he offered with a wry grin. "Besides, I know we've argued – many times – about your tendency to put your life at risk. And as long as you continue to do so, we'll continue to fight about it."

"Even if you know you'll lose?" she grumbled with a heavy sigh.

"I'll make you a deal, Lois," he offered in return. "I'll stop bugging you about the number of risks you take…" she perked up at these words, but her optimism was soon deflated, "once I'm dead. Deal?"

Rolling her eyes at him, she jumped to her feet. "I can make that sooner rather than later you know!" she growled as she stormed towards the living room. "All right, fine! If I'm going to have to spend the next hour convincing you that I'm going to get my way one way or another, I'm at least going to be comfortable while I do it!" she cried as she grabbed Chloe's arm and dragged her out of the room, complaining about their "boneheaded" companion as she went.

Not one to miss free entertainment when it was provided in his very own place, Ollie moved to follow, but Clark stopped him before he could leave. "Ollie, wait," he said softly, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard. "There's something else I need you to do for me. I know you've been working on running through Lex's security footage to look for clues, but do you think you can put Victor on that?"

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why? You need me to do something else?"

Straightening, Clark crossed his arms over his chest and gave a brisk nod of his head. "I do, but first, I was also wondering if you could get Dinah to check out this Bruce Wayne guy. I know Lois said she doesn't think he's the guy, but…" he paused.

"You don't trust her judgment?" his companion asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course I do," Clark countered quickly. "But when it comes to her life, let's just say I'm not going to take any chances. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt for her to check him out. Unless you know the man?"

"Not well," Oliver admitted. "We've met a couple of times at parties, but…" his sentence trailed off with a shrug. "I'll admit, I don't think very much of him. I have to agree with Lois on this one. I don't think he's our guy. I'm not entirely sure he's capable of planning something as complicated as corporate sabotage. I can do some digging, though, if you want."

"You may be right in your assessment of his character," Clark agreed. "But I just want to make sure. And since you've met him before, I'd prefer if Dinah or someone else did the digging. I doubt she and Wayne have met, so she wouldn't be influenced by any prior opinion of him. Besides, what I need you to do something a little…trickier."

His companion looked interested, so Clark said, "I've been thinking that the guy you know in Gotham – the one you were telling us about earlier – he's going to be investigating the crash itself, so he'll be looking at security footage to try to find the men who actually rammed Lois's car off the bridge last night. He may not know to look for whoever it is that's pulling their strings. It's a long shot, but like I said, I'm not going to take any chances. Lois attended a party in Gotham last night. Now, it's unlikely that the man we're looking for knew she planning on going, but that doesn't mean he wasn't in attendance. He could have just taken advantage of an opportunity when it presented itself. So I need you to check out the people at the party. Specifically, if you can, I need you to get a hold of any security footage of the party itself. I want to know if anyone took a particular interest in Lois last night. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm getting desperate. Do you think you can do it?"

Ollie shrugged. "We've hacked into Luthor's security system, and he's got all the security fortifications a man with a healthy dose of paranoia can get. How much harder can Wayne's be?" Looking determined, he met Clark's eyes. "I'm on it. Is that it?"

"One more thing," Clark said quickly. "Lois said something about photographs. I don't know what she's referring to, but I bet Luthor does. Can you look into it? Whatever they are, if they're…well, I mean, I don't know what they are, but…I…" He suddenly began to stammer. Truth be told, he didn't know what kind of photographs Lois had been referring to, and that left a number of rather embarrassing possibilities on the table. Still, he had an idea they could be important.

Taking pity on his friend, Oliver said, "I'll have everyone keep an eye out for any reference to photographs. Victor will probably be able to see if Luthor does in fact have the photographs Lois was talking about. If he does, I'll ask Bart to get them for you." At Clark's concerned look, he rushed to add, "It'll be in and out. Nobody will even be able to tell he was there."

Clark sighed and felt the muscles in his stomach unclench a bit. There was something comforting about knowing that, while they still didn't have the identity of the culprit, they did now have a plan. "Thanks," he said warmly. "I know I'm asking a lot of everyone, and it could be dangerous. If anyone doesn't feel comfortable…"

Ollie shook his head and slapped Clark on the shoulder as he walked him towards the living room. "Don't worry about it, Boyscout. Lois means a lot to me too, you know. Besides, you know how the team is; they go a little stir-crazy after a while if they don't have something to do. This should help keep them out of trouble. So, is there anything else you need?"

Feeling distinctly nervous as he caught sight of Lois and quickly gauged her mood, Clark sighed. "Got any tips on how to improve my odds on actually winning this argument?" A snort of laughter was all he received in return.

Ten minutes later, Clark was still trying to reason with Lois, though given their tones of voice, it was clear that there wasn't much "reason" to be had. "Lois, for god's sake! You can't seriously be planning on sneaking into yet another suspect's house to look around!"

"I certainly am," she argued. "How else am I going to know if he's the guy we're looking for?"

"And what if he is?" he demanded. "He tried to kill you last night, or do I honestly need to remind you of that? He didn't have a problem shoving your car off a bridge, and you think he's going to be put off at the thought of killing you when you so very conveniently put yourself right in his living room?"

She sighed loudly. "Actually, I generally aim for the study first. And look, I appreciate that you're worried about me, but you don't understand that you don't get a vote here! I'm going to investigate this however I see fit, and you –"

For all that the two of them took notice of their companions, Chloe and Ollie may as well have not even been in the room. To their credit, the two bystanders must have realized that discretion was the better part of valor, because they didn't try to intervene in the argument that was rapidly escalating in front of them. "But I don't understand why you won't even listen to reason! You know how dangerous this is! Why does it always have to be all or nothing with you? Why can't you just –"

Before he could finish, she cried, "I don't make it that way, Clark! That's the way it is! Okay? I either find this guy and make sure he's brought to justice, or I don't and he gets away with it! Don't act like I'm making something out of nothing; don't act like I'm blowing this out of proportion! It's all or nothing; that's just the way it is!"

But Clark wasn't going to give in so easily. Taking a step towards her, he demanded, "But why does it have to be you? Why does it always have to be you?"

"Because it's my investigation!" she returned as if the answer were obvious.

"And I'm not telling you that you can't continue your investigation –"

"I'd like to see you try," Lois growled, glaring up at him.

He carried on as if she hadn't spoken, "I'm just saying that maybe, just this once, there might be another way to go about this that wouldn't require you to put your life in danger!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she thrust her chin forward and demanded, "Okay, I'll bite. What do you have in mind?"

Clark sighed. "As you know, there are a number of things that we're going to investigate. Why don't you wait and see what we find before you decide what to do next?"

Lois arched her eyebrows in challenge. "Because I have cause to believe that you guys will tell me everything I need to know before I make that decision," she said sarcastically. "I mean, how do I know that you'll not decide to share just what you think I need to know for my own good?"

At this latest challenge, Clark lost the last vestiges of his temper. "Damn it, Lois! When are you going to forgive us for what we did? I know you're angry, but you have to forgive us sometime!"

Her voice lowering dangerously, Lois shot back, "And when are you going to realize that I don't?" Her eyes flashing, Lois whirled and stormed away for a few feet. Then she paused and fell silent her head bowed and her arms crossed over her chest. Neither Clark nor Lois noticed as Ollie caught Chloe's eye and nodded towards one of the back rooms room. In silence, the two bystanders to the fight walked into the other room, closing the door quietly behind them.

When Lois turned to Clark again, it was in a slightly calmer tone of voice that she said, "You keep asking me when I'm going to forgive you like I've not done it yet just because I want to be difficult! I don't _know _when I'll be able to forgive and forget. I don't even know _if _I'll be able to do so!"

Her words hurt to hear, but what could he say? There was nothing he could do to try to salvage their relationship right now; the most he could do was to try to keep her alive long enough for the two of them to have a chance to put the pieces of their friendship back together. To that end, Clark lowered his voice and pled, "But you don't have to do everything alone; you know that. I know you want to bring this guy to justice; I do too. But you don't need to risk your life to do it!"

"Yes I do!" she argued. "I do have to risk my life to catch this guy, if that's what it takes to bring him out in the open! That's exactly what I have to do!"

"But that's not the only option here!" he countered. "We're conducting an investigation already – one, I might add, that doesn't require you to put yourself in danger!"

"One that asks me to take a back seat in my own investigation," she shot back angrily.

With an exasperated sigh, Clark demanded, "And is that really so terrible, for you to let other people take care of all the heavy lifting for you for just a little while? Is it really so unbearable to ask you to take a break and give your body time to recover? For god's sake, Lois, how many injuries do you need to get in one week? You're not alone in this! You have people willing to help you! So why can't you just –?"

Lois's hands clenched into fists at her side and she screamed, "Because I _am _alone! From the moment I left you bleeding on the floor of that damn warehouse, I've been alone! You're right in front of me, and I can't touch you! I can't even _talk _to you! I know you're alive but every time I close my eyes, I s-see you there, dy-dying in f-front of me, and I can't…I can't…c-can't…"

She couldn't finish. Her breathing was ragged and her body was shaking as she ducked her head in a vain attempt to hide the tears she had begun to shed. His heart breaking, Clark stepped towards her and wrapped his arms slowly around her, wanting to draw her close but afraid to scare her away. With a moan, she gripped the folds of his shirt tightly in her fists as she rested her head against his chest and sobbed.

"I wish I could turn back time, Clark," she mumbled sadly, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I wish I could go back to that night and…and this time, I wouldn't agree to meet Peter Jackson in that stupid warehouse. Or I wouldn't have dragged you along for the ride. Or, hell, I wouldn't have answered his call; I'd just roll over and go right back to sleep.

"I wish I could go back and change things, change everything. And you never would have gotten shot, and I never would have…Everything would go back to the way things were between us, and all of this would just be a bad dream."

Lois leaned into Clark as he ran a hand soothingly down her spine, and when she shifted positions, he could feet the warmth of her tears on his neck. "I wish we could too," he admitted softly. There were so many things he'd have done differently, so many mistakes he had made. "But, Lois, I know I made a number of mistakes and I know it hurts, but you're not alone. I'm here; I'm not going to leave you again. You can talk to me; you can touch me. I'm right here."

He felt Lois shake her head, so he pulled away from her far enough to look her in the eye. "Lois, I'm going to prove to you that you're not alone. I'll do whatever it takes. You said that you were going to conduct your investigation whether we liked it or not…all I'm asking is that you let me help you."

"Clark," she murmured in a tortured whisper, "I can't. The last time I dragged you into an investigation, I got you killed. I can't do that again. I can't watch you die like that again. I know that you're…that you've got these powers, but don't you see? Even with all your powers, you almost died for me once. I almost got you killed once. I-I couldn't bear it if it happened again. Not…not for me. I just can't."

His heart breaking, Clark cried, "Oh, god, Lois…why do you…you weren't responsible for what happened! You can't keep blaming yourself for everything!"

She shook her head. "Yes, I can because it was my fault. I was stupid; I ran headlong into danger like I always do. And in the process, I put you in danger when I should have kept you safe. I lost you, and –"

"Lois, you didn't lose me!" he cried desperately. "How can I prove that to you?"

He watched as she bit her lower lip and stared up at him. Finally, heaving a shaky sigh, she said sadly, "You don't understand, do you, Clark?" Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. "You tell me that I can talk to you." Her eyes dropped further still, past the curve of his neck to the solid expanse of his chest. With trembling fingers, she reached for him, lying her hand over his heart, her fingertips slipping beneath the fold of his shirt to touch the warm skin underneath. "You say I can touch you," she whispered. Clark's breathing became slightly more labored as she caressed his chest.

Tilting her head to the side, Lois slowly unfastened the buttons on his shirt. Clark sucked in a sharp breath and held it as she slowly pushed the fabric over his shoulders; he barely noticed when it slid down his arms and landed in a pool at his feet. He didn't notice anything, in fact, besides the expression on Lois's face. She seemed entranced by the sight before her as she rested one palm against the area where a gunshot wound should have been. The soft caress of her fingertips was torture, but the thought of asking her to stop didn't even cross his mind.

Resting her palm flat against his chest once more, Lois leaned forward as if drawn by the heat of his skin. "You say I'm not alone." Her voice was soft, but he could feel the brush of her breath against his flesh as she moved closer, still staring at his chest. "It's amazing," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "There's not even a mark."

"L-Lois," Clark choked as she bent her knees and brushed her lips across his chest in the area where a bullet had once pierced his skin and collapsed his lung. He reached for her, bracing her hips with his hands as she moved even closer.

Her hair tickled his chest as she tilted her head back and met his eyes once more. "You want me to believe that I didn't lose you that day, but you're wrong. You have no idea what I lost when I held you in my arms and pressed my hand against your heart, begging you not to die. You can't know because I didn't even know what I was losing. What I lost."

"What did you lose?" he demanded softly, his eyes dark, but she only shook her head in answer. Her eyes were expectant, however, as if she was waiting for something, asking something of him that he didn't quite understand. He felt like the answers were right in front of him, but he wasn't able to piece them together. Frustrated at his own incompetence, he demanded, "Lois, why do you feel like you lost something?"

Her hazel eyes were sad as she replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "Because I was in love with you, Clark, and I didn't realize it until I thought I'd already lost you."

Her honesty felled him and his heart shattered as the full meaning of her words sunk in. She had loved him, and she was right to an extent – he _had _left her alone. With the best of intentions – with the silent promise that he would watch over her, if only from the shadows – he had hurt the woman before him. The wounds he had inflicted upon her weren't as visible as the bruises that marred her skin, but they went deeper than any broken bone.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he'd realized that, even with everything he could do, there were some things that he shouldn't. He had crossed that line, and his father had paid the price with his life. But even still, even knowing the possible consequences, Clark wished at that moment that he could take that chance – could turn back time – and undo all the pain he had inflicted upon the woman who meant so much to him.

How stupid he had been. How arrogant. Yes, he'd been reluctant to hide the truth from Lois, but in the end, he had capitulated. Thinking he knew best, he had helped to perpetrate the deception that broken her heart. If only he could go back to that moment, he would not let other doubts sway him. He would race to her side, as he had intended originally to do, and to hell with the consequences.

He wouldn't have left her to cry alone.

And that was what killed him. Since this entire debacle began, he had come to realize that more than anything else, he loved Lois. It didn't matter the level of danger they faced; he felt safe when she was close to him, and he felt bereft when she wasn't by his side. He wanted to be the man she depended on, the man she trusted, the man she turned to when she needed comfort. And yet, when she had needed him the most, he had consciously chosen not to be there for her.

Clark had made so many mistakes in his life – too many to count, perhaps. But this was one of the worst. In the name of "protecting" Lois, he had left her to cry alone, when he should have been by her side. He needed to be by her side, in fact. He knew now that he would move heaven and earth to get there, and yet it seemed that this realization had come too late. Because now 'by her side' could be the one place Lois didn't want him to be.

Lois said she'd loved him – past tense. Had he stupidly and irrevocably lost the thing most precious to him before he'd even realized what it was that he had? The question terrified him because he knew that he had broken her heart when he hadn't even known that it was his to keep safe.

The irony would have made him laugh if he didn't feel such a desperate urge to scream aloud in pain and self-recrimination. How stupid he had been. How blind the both of them had been, really. She'd loved him, and she hadn't realized it until she thought he'd lost him. And he loved her; he didn't know how much until he'd realized that she was slipping through his fingers. Even now, it might be too late to get her back.

No, he decided. He wasn't going to accept that. He _couldn't_ accept that. In the hospital, he had foolishly let his fears override the trust he had in Lois, in himself, and in the strength of what they had together. Whether it was just in friendship or as something more, he briefly forgotten that the two of them were stronger together than they were apart.

He had made a mistake, but he'd be making a greater one now if he didn't fight to regain what they had once had. He had been blind, but he wouldn't be so foolish as to gamble her heart again. He loved her; he felt certain now that he would love her forever. And if it took until the end of time itself, he would show her how much she meant to him. He would prove to her that he would never be so careless or so stupid as to break her heart again. And he would never again leave her to cry alone.

If, in the end, Lois decided that what he offered now wasn't enough to make up for what they had lost, he would accept her decision and walk away – even if it would kill him inside to do so. He would watch her from the shadows, her silent protector, and not try to claim a place at her side. But he wouldn't lose the woman he loved without a fight.

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he loved her and then hesitated. Right now, if he said everything he'd been thinking, she wouldn't believe him – he could see it in the expression on her face. When he told her he how much he loved her, he didn't want her to think he was simply saying the words because he thought they would make her feel better.

The pain in her eyes was mirrored in every line of his face. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I…you never have to feel alone again, Lois," he promised her, his voice low and earnest.

She moaned softly, a tortured sound, and she wouldn't meet his eyes as she said, "It won't go away, Clark. What if you can't fix this?"

"Let me try," he pleaded softly. Their bodies were so close, he could feel the heat of her body and the brush of her breath against his neck. His heart teetered on the edge of a precipice as he awaited her answer.

"I-I don't know, Clark," she said after a moment. "You say that I never have to feel alone again, but how do I know that…you can't promise that!"

"Yes, I can," he responded.

"But how?" She demanded an answer from him, but there was also a pleading edge to her voice, as if she was begging him to convince her.

He was still afraid that she wouldn't believe him when he told her the truth, but he had to take the chance. He couldn't bear to stay silent about his feelings any longer. "Because I love you too."

She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes flashed as she spat angrily, "You don't mean that, Clark, and you don't have to say it just to make me feel better." Though she tried to step back away from him, he dropped his hand to his chest and pressed his palm against the hand that still rested against his heart before she could pull her hand away.

"I'm not just saying it, Lois. I mean it. I love you," he said steadily.

"And why should I believe a single word you say?" she demanded. "How do I know you're not just saying it because…"

Clark cut her off. "You don't have to believe what I'm saying." Gently squeezing the hand he still held captive under his own, he murmured, "Can't you feel it?"

She shook her head, but her fingers were trembling beneath his. "I don't feel anything," she said caustically, and though her words were aimed to hurt, he could see the shadow of pain that still lurked behind her eyes.

Wanting to wipe her sorrow away, he lifted a hand to her face and cupped her cheek. "Then let me show you." When he brushed his thumb gently against the curve of her cheekbone, he felt her lean ever so slightly into his touch, though he doubted she had intentionally done such a thing.

Bowing his head, he tilted her head back and stared into her eyes. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead and down the curve of her brow. There was a catch in her breathing as his breath fanned against her face, she slowly, almost unconsciously, closed her eyes.

Clark pressed his lips gently against her closed eyelids, as if to kiss away the tears she'd cried. His lips trailed down her cheekbone, but when he reached her mouth, however, he paused. "Can't you feel me?" he murmured, his mouth only an inch from hers.

He didn't know who moved first – her or him – but his lips were on hers a moment later. Her mouth was hot against his own, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight, her embrace almost desperate.

Clark wrapped his hand around her thigh, lifting it high onto his hip, as he pressed himself against her. With a small shift of her hips, Lois ground herself against him, almost bringing him to his knees. He wanted her so much that it hurt, and he groaned against her mouth when she repeated the move and ground herself against him again.

He moaned her name as she broke off the kiss, throwing her head back as she gasped for breath. Unable to resist, he took advantage of the invitation, ducking his head to kiss the tender skin at the side of her neck.

She shuddered against him. "Oh, Clark, I need you," she breathed. He moaned her name and turned to kiss her again, but before he could, she sucked in a sharp breath and pushed him away. Taken by surprise, Clark stumbled back a step; the force of Lois's shove sent her stumbling back several feet.

"Lois, what –?" he cried.

"It's not enough, Clark," she blurted suddenly. He stared at her in confusion, seeking some sort of explanation. Sucking in a shaky breath, Lois raised her hands to her head and ran them through her hair. When she dropped her hands to her sides once more, she lifted her chin and stared at him unflinchingly. Her voice was once again steady – if slightly brittle and strained – as she explained, "I can't let this go, because I lost myself the day you died. Or at least the day I thought you died. From the moment I woke up in that hospital, I've felt…lost. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back to the person I was before – if you and I will ever be able to find our way back to what we had before…before all of this. But I can't lose myself any longer." She paused, and then, as if repeating something someone had told her, she said, "I can't bear to keep looking at myself in the mirror and not recognize what I see."

He stared at her for a long minute in silence; he didn't know what to say in response to her last remark. Before he could come up with an answer, he heard someone cough softly, as if trying to catch his attention, and turned to find Chloe standing nearby. She was fixing her gaze on a spot about two feet above his shoulder. It was clear that she was pointedly trying not to notice his state or undress or draw conclusions about what it meant.

Flushing at the thought of the scene that would have been interrupted, had Chloe come in a few moments before, Clark swooped and picked up his discarded shirt. As he slipped it on, a sheepish expression crossed Chloe's face and she said apologetically, "I'm sorry…I don't mean to interrupt. But Ollie and I found something, and I think you guys need to see it right away."

Chloe turned and walked back into the other room. Clark heard Lois suck in a ragged breath and watched as she tugged at the bottom of her shirt, trying to put herself back in order. By the time she walked past him to follow her cousin into the back room, he could almost believe that nothing untoward had happened between them. At least, he would if he failed to note the heightened color in her cheeks, the way her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses, and the way she wouldn't quite look at him as she walked by.

He suspected he looked nowhere near as nonchalant as he followed her, but he did his best. Either he did a better job than he'd thought or his friends had too much tact to ask about the shirt he'd not buttoned properly or his disheveled hair. In fact, when he walked into the back room, he saw that their attention was focused entirely on the black and white footage playing across the giant screen mounted on the wall. He recognized the setting at a glance and knew that the footage was taken from the security cameras at Luthor Mansion. "What's up?" he asked, pulling his eyes away from the picture of Lois and Lex engrossed in conversation that was playing out on-screen.

"As you know, we've been going through some old footage, looking for clues," Chloe explained. "Well, Ollie and I were talking about last night, and, well…"

She turned to look at Oliver, and he hit a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. A file opened on the screen in front of him, it was more security footage from the Luthor Mansion. "This was taken this morning," he explained as he began to manipulate the image, zooming in on the picture of Lex sitting at his desk. They watched in silence as the man on the film tore open a blank manila envelope and pulled out a small sheet of paper from inside.

Ollie paused the film once more and zoomed in to the object in Lex's hands. It took some manipulation to clarify the image, but they were soon able to see the image on the photograph that Lex was examining.

"And I always thought I was photogenic," Lois said wryly as her companions stared in silence at the image, and she sounded so calm that, if it weren't for the fact that her voice was pitched a shade higher than normal, Clark would have thought that she'd completely forgotten the scene that had happened in the living room. Though the picture was of her, it wasn't one of her most attractive photos. She was glaring blearily up at the camera – it was the picture her attackers had taken of her in the car before they'd rammed the car off the side of the bridge.

"Do you remember this being taken?" Chloe asked curiously.

"Not until you showed me this," Lois admitted, sounding slightly more like herself. "But I had hit my head. Still, it's not entirely surprising, is it? They attacked me to get to Lex; it only makes sense that they'd want to send him proof that they'd succeeded."

Oliver looked thoughtful. "So Lex thinks you're dead," he said slowly. "Your attackers saw you go into the water; they probably think you're dead too. That means that the only people who know you're alive right now are in this room. So for once, we have the advantage."

Lois shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. I know what you're thinking, but I'm not going for it."

With a sigh, Ollie cajoled, "Lois, be reasonable. If they think you're dead, nobody will be looking for you. We can conduct our investigation without –"

"I'm not going to pretend I'm dead. Not for Lex; not for anyone!" she cried angrily.

Chloe took a step towards her cousin. "Lois, it's not like Lex is going to be upset at the thought that you're dead," she pointed out reasonably.

Lois shook her head again. "I still wouldn't give him the satisfaction." Glancing around at her companions, she said wryly, "I know that you guys have the best of intentions. You always do."

Before the argument could escalate, Clark cut in, "Okay, so you don't want everyone to think you're dead. That doesn't mean that we can't choose the best moment to let him know you're alive."

"What do you mean?" she asked dubiously.

He moved in front of Lois and placed his hands on her shoulders. Though she jumped slightly at the touch, but didn't move away. Staring into her eyes, he said, "Listen, whoever's behind all of this, they're obviously watching Lex. They took that picture and they sent it to Lex because they thought it would hurt him to see you like that. They're probably going to be watching him closely after this. Whoever it is that's trying to destroy him…they seem to enjoy causing him pain. In fact, isn't that the entire purpose for what they've been doing? If I'm right, they'll be watching him closely, expecting him to be hurting right now and enjoying every second of it.

"So we let Lex know you're alive, but we should pick our moment. Make it public. I checked the newspapers this morning; there's nothing in it about the attack; there's nothing saying you've gone missing. It looks like only a few people know you were even attacked; we're the only ones who know you survived. If you suddenly show up in public, the only people who will react to seeing you are Lex and whoever it is that's watching him, because they're the only ones who know you're supposed to be dead."

"You can't be serious!" Chloe cried. "It's too dangerous, Clark!"

Feeling unhappy but resigned, he glanced up at Chloe and nodded. "It is dangerous, I know. And, believe me, if I had my way, we'd do something else." Looking back down at Lois, he met her eyes and said heavily, "But so far, this guy has been two steps ahead of us the whole time. This may be our chance to even the playing field a little. If we can take him by surprise, he might make a mistake, and that may be our best chance to draw him out into the open."

"It makes sense," Ollie interjected. "But it is going to expose Lois to risk for nothing more than the chance that our killer will be so surprised that he accidentally exposes himself. In the end, it's up to Lois. Do really want to take the risk, knowing that it might not get us anywhere?"

She nodded slowly. "Clark's right. It's worth the chance. I'll do it."

Chloe looked unhappy. "I still don't like it. It's fine for us to say that she should do it; she's the one who's being put at risk by going in there alone."

"She's not going to be alone," Clark argued. "I'm going to be with her."

"Not a chance!" Lois blurted. "You can't risk Lex seeing you; he'll know you're alive and it'll raise too many questions!"

"If you can run headlong into danger, so can I, I suppose," he said with an ironic twist of his lips. Heedless of their audience, he lifted a hand and wrapped a lock of her hair around this finger. It was as dark as chocolate and as soft as silk.

"And what if something happens?" Lois asked him. What if something goes wrong?

"Then at least we'll be together, and we'll both find a way to deal with it." He offered her a small smile and tugged gently on the lock of hair he still held. "It's better than handling everything alone, isn't it?"

There was a brief pause, and then Lois lifted her hand and wrapped it around his. A small fraction of the pain behind her eyes faded away as the corners of her mouth quirked upwards – it was a sorry excuse for a smile, but at least it was moving in the right direction. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "I guess it is."

---

_Somewhere Else  
The Night Before…_

"It's done?" the man behind the desk demanded as he reached for the photograph that had been placed on the hard wood surface before him. The tone of his voice made it clear that an affirmative response was not only expected, it was required.

"Y-Yes, sir," his twitchy companion replied quickly. "We took her out, just like you said. Well, we tried to."

"Tried?" An arm clad in an expensive blue suit retracted as its owner sat back in his plush leather chair and fixed the trembling man in front of his desk with an unblinking gaze. "That's funny," he said dryly after a moment. "I don't pay the two of you to try; I pay you to succeed. If success proves to be beyond you, I can always have you replaced."

The man to whom this threat was addressed visibly flinched; the taller, more stalwart man at his side tried to intervene. "We can handle the job, sir!" he said angrily, and the man in blue smiled as his eyes flickered up to the parallel scratches marring the face before him, which had never been the most attractive even before the new injuries. This one had a personal vendetta against last night's target, which was fine as long as it didn't cause him to act stupid. "There was an unforeseen complication," the scarred man offered.

Eyebrows arched questioningly as the man in blue asked in a deceptively soft voice, "I don't pay you to deal with complications?"

"Y-yeah, sure you do, boss," the first spoke up again quickly. "This was just a different kind of complication, that's all. Show 'im." He turned to his scarred companion as he said these last two words, and the man in the chair waited with thinly veiled impatience as another photograph was produced and placed on the desk before him.

"What's this?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing on the picture. It wasn't the highest of quality – taken from a distance, and apparently in something of a hurry as the figures it depicted were slightly blurred. Still, there was a clearly discernible image of a drenched woman in a ball-gown being kiss by a mysterious stranger who was equally wet and holding her in his arms.

Steely eyes lifted and silently demanded an explanation of those who should have served him better. "Who is this?"

"I dunno, boss. He came out of nowhere, and…" the more vocal of his companions tried to explain.

"You didn't ensure you were alone before you acted?" the man in the blue suit snarled in anger.

"We were alone." The speaker's scar twisted, making its bearer even uglier. "That's what we're trying to tell you. We were alone, and this guy came from outta nowhere and saved that stupid bitch. He brought her out of the water, and we got that picture just before he took her away. We tried to get a shot of his face, but I'm telling you, boss…nobody can move like he did."

The man in blue sounded board as he asked, "How did he move?" He hated excuses, and he hated more that his inept employees thought they could get away with them.

The twitchy one spoke up again. "Fast. Real fast. I'm tellin' ya, he was there one second and the next, he was gone. It was incredible! It was…"

"Inhuman," the man standing to his left cut in.

The man behind the desk leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as they swept over the two men before him. It was the first real sign of interest he'd yet displayed. "Really?" One finger tapped thoughtfully against the hard wood surface. Lifting the latest photograph, he tilted it into the light and stared at it for a moment. "The two of them certainly seem close," he mused. "Interesting."

The two men before the desk relaxed a bit, their expressions relieved. "She didn't go back to the Mansion last night," the taller of the two said. "I've got some men out looking for her. We'll find her, and this time, we'll be sure to get the job done."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then the man with the ice blue eyes said slowly, "No…I've changed my mind; I don't want you to kill her…not yet. I want to find out more about him." Lifting the photograph, he tapped the picture of the man who was kissing the woman in his arms. "I want to everything about him – who he is, how well he and Lois know each other, everything. In the meantime, send the picture of Lois to Lex. Just because she survived doesn't mean he has to know of your incompetence. Understood?"

The man with the scar and the vendetta looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn't dare. "Yes, sir."

After they left, the man in blue sat back in his chair and stared thoughtfully at the blurred photograph before him. With a frown, he pulled some keys out of his pocket and unlocked the top drawer of his desk. Only one object was inside – a sheaf of papers bound in battered brown leather. Though the man pulled it out of the drawer and laid it on the desk in front of him, he didn't pull it open. He didn't need to; he knew its contents by heart.

A burst of laughter shattered the silence in the room, and the man in blue grinned as he sat back. "Oh, he could be very useful…if they were telling the truth," he murmured aloud as if outwardly confirming whatever private thoughts he had been entertaining. "And if not…" he fingered the cover of the well-worn journal he'd pulled from the drawer. "If he gives me any trouble…I have everything I need to make sure he won't get in my way."


	20. Chapter 20: Trying to Mend a Broken Hear

**A/N:** Okay, I'll admit it. A year ago, this chapter might have gone differently. But it didn't! Enjoy! And the next chapter is happening by special request.

**Trying to Mend a Broken Heart**

"So, how's it coming?" Lois asked a little later, leaning against the doorjamb and staring curiously in on Ollie and Chloe as they worked furiously at the panel of computers before them. Though they had decided on a tentative course of action, they were still continuing to work on their various research tasks, just in case

Ollie turned and looked at her over his shoulder. "It's going okay. You need something?" His tone was distracted, his mind clearly still on whatever it was he was working on.

"Not really," she admitted. "It's just that I'm feeling at loose ends over here. I'm really more of a take-action kinda gal; I'm not very good at this. Standing around, waiting for something to happen."

"Ah," he said, straightening. He looked from her to the petite blonde at his side, who had paused in her task to watch the interaction but had not moved from her position in front of the computer. She looked uncertain, as though she didn't know what she should do. "Tell you what," Ollie said abruptly. "Why don't we take a quick break, Chloe? I should check in with the team anyway. And you guys probably could use some privacy to…talk."

"Ollie, that's –!" Chloe began to protest.

He paid her no heed as he walked to the door. As he brushed past Lois, he murmured, "Talk to her. You guys can't pretend nothing's wrong forever, you know."

Lois tried to hide her wince as she nodded slowly. She watched as he rounded the corner, and then she turned to the person who had once been dearer to her than anyone else in the world. "So," she began her conversational volley, but since she couldn't think of anything appropriate to follow that particular lead-in with, the solitary word hung in the air between them expectantly.

"So," Chloe replied agreeably, apparently with no better idea of how to follow up that small foray into discussion than Lois. After a moment, she said quickly, "We found a maid who works for Lex, who's had some pretty suspicious deposits in her bank account lately, so we might have a lead!"

"Hm," Lois returned. It was a bit of a relief that there was some sort of progress being made, at least, though she wasn't terribly interested in maids at the moment, not even those with suspicious bank deposits. Strolling forward, she clamped down her feeling of awkwardness, so alien to her in conversations with Chloe, and ran a hand idly across one of the keyboard panels. When she looked back up at her cousin, he said, "You've found a place here, huh? With Clark and the rest of his hero friends, I mean."

Though she hadn't intended there to be censure in her words, Chloe flushed and said defensively, "I've always been good at computers. You know that."

"I wasn't doubting it," Lois replied archly. Chloe didn't automatically respond, and so she dropped her gaze to the desktop again, watching her hand as it trailed idly across the shiny surface, as if it had a mind of its own. "Is it always going to be like this between us?" she asked softly.

Her hand had no immediate answer, and Chloe's response wasn't much more helpful. "I don't want it to be." Then, clearing her throat, she finally decided to address the elephant in the room. "Listen, Lois, about what you said at the apartment, I've been doing a lot of thinking about it, and…you said that you appreciated that Lex didn't lie to you about how he felt about you, and I didn't want you to think that Clark and I –"

"Let's leave Clark out of this, okay, Chloe? This isn't about him. This is about you and me," Lois interjected.

"O-okay, then, I don't want you to think that I don't care about you," Chloe finished instead.

Lois sighed. "I know you care about me, Chlo," she said softly.

"You just think I care about Clark more." It was said with the calm assurance of one certain of the truth of their words. I know you're pissed at me because I didn't put you first," she said heavily.

Lois was flabbergasted. "Did you not listen to a thing I said back at the apartment? This isn't about whether you love me or how much you care about me! It's about trust! It's about you pushing me away because you think I'm trying to take Clark from you!"

"And I told you, that's ridiculous!" Chloe responded hotly. "This has nothing to do with me wanting to keep Clark all to myself! I don't even know where you got that idea!"

Placing her hand on her hip, Lois demanded in an undertone. "Oh, no? You know, I've thought a lot about it since I found out about what happened, and there's one thing that's been bothering me. While I was in the hospital, when you and Clark decided that I shouldn't know the truth about what happened, whose idea was it? I mean, I know you both agreed to it, but who came up with the actual idea?"

Chloe blanched and sidestepped the question, giving Lois all the confirmation she needed. "Clark is my best friend!" the younger girl cried, her voice rising defensively. "Of course I was going to protect him! For years, I've been there for him; I've protected his secret! I gave up everything to be there for him when he needed me; do you think that was easy for me? But I did it for him. Everything I've done, I've done for him! Including having to hide the truth from you about what happened in that warehouse!"

"Are you kidding me?" Lois demanded incredulously. "You're actually blame _Clark _for everything? Don't get me wrong, Chloe; he still has to answer for the choices he made. But don't go blaming him for your choices! That's crap and you know it!"

"It's not crap!" Chloe cried defensively. "You just don't understand! You've known his secret for what? Ten minutes now? I've known it for _years_! Do you have even the slightest clue of how hard it is to keep his secret day after day? Do you have any idea of the sacrifices I've made so that his secret wouldn't be exposed? It was so easy for you to judge me for the choices I've made. But do you have any idea what I've had to do, how many lies I've had to tell, how many front-page articles I _haven't_ gotten, because I was afraid they would expose him?"

"So that makes everything Clark's fault?" Lois demanded incredulously. "Because as I recall, it wasn't Clark sitting with me at your apartment, watching me in silence as I cried my eyes out, thinking I'd gotten him killed!"

"Well, what did you want me to say, Lois? Clark's secret wasn't mine to divulge! What could I have possibly told you?" Chloe insisted.

Lois was practically shaking with anger when she yelled, "That I didn't kill him! Are you honestly telling me you couldn't find a way to let me know that there was even a _chance _that I hadn't gotten my best friend murdered! You're a genius, Chloe, but nothing came to mind?"

"I tried!" she cried in response. Silence fell between them for a moment as both women sucked in shaky breaths and tried to regain control of their tempers. Finally, Chloe said, her voice tight with stain, "To tell you the truth would have exposed his secret! I couldn't risk it."

Arching her eyebrows, Lois spat, "And what did you think I was going to do with his secret, once I found out about it? Tell the world? Scream it from the rooftops? Print it in the paper?"

Chloe snapped, "Oh, right, because you've shown such journalistic integrity thus far?"

Though Lois knew that the words were spoken in anger and that, perhaps, having been put on the defensive, Chloe spoke unthinkingly, she flinched at this attack. "Is that really what you think of me?" she asked softly.

Looking vaguely regretful, her companion didn't speak for a moment and a long, tense silence stretched between them. When Chloe spoke again, her voice was steadier, her temper under better control. "I think…" she said slowly and then paused. "You're a great reporter, Lois. You're great because you always want to get the story, and you're determined to print it once you do. But I'm not like you. I can't always put the story first; Clark's secret is too important for that."

It was a backhanded compliment if ever Lois had heard one. "So what you're saying is that you put the people you care about the most above everything else, whereas I always put the story first, even before the people I care the most about."

"I don't mean it to sound like that!" Chloe blurted quickly. Choosing her words carefully, she explained, "I'm just saying that…that you have no idea how hard it is to be in my position. To always have to be willing to do what it takes to keep him safe. Every time I've lied to you, every secret I've had to keep from you, has been because Clark's secret needed to be protected. It's not that I don't trust you; it's just that, when it comes to his secret, I can't afford to take the chance and be wrong."

"Is that so?" Lois challenged softly, crossing her arms over her chest. When Chloe nodded, she sighed. Her voice was filled with sadness as she asked, "After all this time, how is it that you don't know me at all, Chloe? You think that I'd really put my career before you? Before Clark?"

"I think you throw yourself into your stories, Lois, and you don't always stop to think about the consequences. I mean, isn't that the whole reason we're in this mess to begin with?" Chloe responded in a quiet voice.

The barb hit home, and Lois sucked in a sharp breath. With a wince, she nodded. "You're right; I ran headlong into danger and I almost got Clark killed because of it. Sometimes I can jump into the pool without bothering to check the water level. But don't for a second think that any of that means that I put myself first, or that I'd ever sell you or Clark out for some stupid story."

Her companion shook her head. "You don't know what you'd do, Lois. You never know what you'd do until you actually have to do it. Trust me; I've been keeping Clark's secret for years. You don't know how hard it is to kill that front-page story until the first time you've had to do it."

"About as hard as killing a story on your cousin's miraculous return from the dead?" Lois challenged softly. At the woman in question's surprised look, she asked, "Do you really think I'm that stupid, Chloe? I should have died, but even though I was the one who was stabbed, you were the one who was taken to the morgue. Do you really think that I somehow _forgot _that you were pronounced dead at the hospital? But then, without any explanation, you were alive, walking around like nothing happened! Tell me, what part of that do you think escaped my attention? And what part of that do you think _wouldn't_ have made a good story?"

Though Chloe opened and closed her mouth a few times, no sound came out. Finally, she croaked, "And what do you think happened?"

Lois shrugged. "I don't have any idea," she admitted. "I could tell you didn't want me to look into it, so I left it alone. After Clark told me his secret, I thought maybe he had something to do with it – but then I remembered he was at the Luthor Mansion with me when you had your sudden rise from the dead. And, at any rate, he told me about his powers and 'raises girls from the dead' wasn't on the list. So I can only imagine there's another explanation, one that nobody's ever seen fit to give me. Which isn't exactly a surprise; as I'm not an idiot, I've always known there had to be something you weren't telling me. I've known there was something going on with you, but I didn't ask for questions because I love you. You mean the world to me, and I figured if there was something you didn't want to tell me, I'd respect your privacy."

Chloe bit her lower lip. "I know what you must be thinking, but you have to understand. It's…it's complicated," she said feebly.

Lois threw her a sardonic look. "Just stop, okay? Stop. I'm not asking you to explain. But don't stand there now and tell me that I put myself above everyone around me, because you don't have the first clue of what you're talking about. You and Clark…sometimes it feels like you are the only two people I've got in the world, since it's not exactly like I've got the closest relationship with the General and Lucy. I'd die for either of you. I'd _kill _for either of you. And you think I'd sell either of you out for the sake of a _story_? Are you kidding me? After all the times I've turned a blind eye to your frankly bizarre behavior because I knew it was what you wanted me to do? And now, after all of this, you think I'd sell you out?" Shaking her head in disbelief, she finished, "You can claim that this is all about Clark as much as you want, but don't kid yourself. This isn't about Clark, Chloe. It's not even about me. It's about you."

"But it's not about me!" Chloe argued. "It's about Clark!"

Lois shook her head. "Oh, come on! How can you not see it? You said you've given up everything to be there for him, but Clark's a big boy; he doesn't need you to hold his hand. All these "sacrifices" you keep talking about, did he ever ask you to do that or did you make those sacrifices because of what it meant for you? I guess if you're the only go-to girl he has, that makes you pretty special, huh? I mean, like you said, you've known his secret for _years_; I've only known it for _ten minutes_." She threw her cousin a disgusted look. "And I guess that makes me an idiot, because I never thought you had to be someone's Girl Friday to be special; I always thought you were pretty damn special on your own. How stupid could I be?"

Chloe looked hurt, her eyes filling with tears. "Lois, that's not fair. You don't understand…"

Lois was sick of this entire conversation. She was sick of being told she didn't understand, though in this instance, Chloe had a point. "No, you're right. I don't. You know what? Forget about it. So you don't trust me. You know the funny thing? Knowing that you don't trust me doesn't hurt half as much as finding out why." There was a wealth of sadness in her voice as she looked at her cousin – the girl who had, for so long, meant the world to her.

Before she could say any more, Chloe stepped forward. "Lois, wait, please. Please don't look at me like that. Look, I-I'm sorry. About everything."

"So am I," she said softly, straightening abruptly. "There really isn't anything else to say, is there?" she muttered, turning on her heel, and she didn't look at her cousin as she headed for the door."

"Wait!" Chloe cried again, following after her. "That can't be it! Things were…I thought we could fix things, if we only talked about them! I know you were mad, but things were supposed to get better between us!"

"Why, because you want them to?" Lois asked, staring at her cousin incredulously. "Because that would make everyone's lives a little easier? Because things didn't go exactly as you'd intended?" Chloe just stared helplessly at her, incapable of finding the words to explain why she'd expected things to go back to normal between them. Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, Lois leaned against the doorjamb and sighed. "You know what I realized when I cleaned up my apartment after Lex's men ransacked the place?" she asked in an apparent change of subject. "I realized that sometimes when things get broken, they don't _get _fixed. Maybe that's unfair, and maybe it's not the way we wish things would be, but that's the way things are.

"But, hey, you don't have to worry about it, cuz," she said, her lips tightening in a grimace, her tone dripping with faint irony. "I already told you, you're practically all I've got in the world. And you know anything about me – which I don't take for granted anymore – then you should know that it's not in my nature to turn my back on the people I care about. If you need me, I'm there for you, no questions asked. I've just stopped taking it for granted that you would do the same for me."

"That's not fair," Chloe whispered in a pained voice.

Lois shrugged again. "It may not be fair, Chlo, but that's life."

Straightening, she walked through the doorway and into the hall, where she almost ran headlong into Oliver as he strode back to the computer room. When she looked up into his face, she could see the sadness in his eyes as he stared down at her. Apparently, he had overheard at least a portion of the conversation. "You're being a little harsh, don't you think?" he asked softly but not unkindly.

She scowled. "Actions have consequences, Ollie, you know that as well as anyone. You can't ignore them just because you didn't intend for things to go the way they did."

He nodded, accepting her words. "She made a mistake, I'm not trying to excuse it. Both of them did," he acknowledged.

"Except?" she prompted, knowing there was more.

"Except they're not the only ones who are making choices, here. You are too. Are you sure _you're_ ready to deal with the repercussions of your actions?

"No," she admitted harshly with a slight shake of her head. "But like I said to her, it may not be fair, but that's life."

"Lois –" he began, but she shook her head again and walked around him.

Raising one hand in a halting gesture, she said firmly, "Don't, Ollie. I appreciate that you're trying to help here, but just…don't."

He didn't say anything more as she walked past him, and so she was able to make her escape. But perhaps due to the frustration brought by her own inaction, or perhaps due to her confrontation with Chloe, she found herself feeling on edge, uneasy, trapped by the four walls around her. When restless pacing back and forth did little to relieve her anxiety, she headed down the stairs to the back door. Perhaps a little fresh air would help her find some inner peace.

Her bare feet sank into the grass as she strolled aimlessly across the wide expanse of lawn between the house and a densely wooded area. The sounds of the city were muted, but she didn't have any way to know how far Clark had carried her the night before. Were they still on the outskirts of Gotham City, or had Clark brought her all the way back to Metropolis? She would have to find out for sure.

A soft breeze blew, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting it blow the wisps of her hair away from her face. With it came a familiar smell, so warm and comforting in the past, though now it caused her shoulders to tense slightly. When she opened her eyes, she saw Clark striding towards her, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his red jacket as his long legs quickly crossed the distance between them. "I thought I heard you come out here," he said as he came to a halt before her.

"I needed some fresh air," she explained. A beat of silence followed, and then she hazarded a guess, "Chloe ask you to talk to me?"

He hesitated for a second and then shrugged. "She's pretty upset, but I didn't come out here for her. I came out here for you, because I wanted to see you," he said, his voice quiet.

Lois stared suspiciously at him, but he stared levelly back at her until she was convinced he was telling the truth. Then she heaved a heavy sigh. "You know what I wish, Clark? I wish I could turn back time, go back a couple of weeks. A month. Before any of this happened. More than anything, I wish I could go back to the way things used to be." Before he could agree with her, she dismissed her own wishes with a quick shake of her head. "But I guess that's impossible, huh? You can't go back, and even if you could, maybe it's best that you don't. I keep trying to tell myself that it's better…knowing what I do now. Even if it hurts, it's better than believing a lie."

He looked pained. "Lois –" he began.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked abruptly, cutting him off. "If none of this had happened, would you have told me? About you, I mean. I don't mean right now or anything, but would you have told me eventually? Or do you think that I would have – well, that you couldn't trust me with the secret or something? If you hadn't been forced to trust me with it, that is."

"Well, I –" he tried again, but she cut him off once more as she continued to babble.

"I don't mean to make it sound like I think I'm entitled to your secret or anything like that. Of course I'm not, and it was totally your right to decide whether or not you wanted to tell me. I'm just wondering if you didn't tell me because you didn't _want _to tell me, or if you thought you _couldn't_ tell me for some reason. Not that it matters, I guess, but I just –"

This time it was Clark's turn to interject. "Lois, stop," he said abruptly, grabbing her arms to get her attention. Her mouth snapped closed in shock, and he took a deep breath. "I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how. The fact that I didn't has nothing to do with any concerns I had that you couldn't be trusted. Why would you even think that?"

Letting out the breath she'd been holding with a whoosh, she shook her head. "No reason," she lied. Then, looking up into his eyes, she squared her shoulders. She'd told him, earlier in the day, that she could no longer stand to look in the mirror and not be able to recognize the woman gazing back at her. But how much of that was because she had been fundamentally changed by recent events, and how much of it was a product of her own doing? She had once defined herself by so many things – her stubbornness, her reckless determination, to be sure, but also by the mere fact that she'd always put the people she loved the most before herself. Without question or expectation. She had always been a person who would do anything for the people she loved, and while she wasn't a woman who defined herself by her relationships, she knew that having them in her life had made her a better person.

If it was true that recent events had changed her – and of course it was – then it was also true that she had changed herself, by pushing away the people she once had held so close. Of course, she didn't fool herself into thinking that she could forgive and forget, that things could miraculously return to normal just because she wished they would. But as Confucius had said, 'a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.' It was time she took the first one. After all, if she wanted to be able to recognize her reflection once more, she had to start by trying to return to the woman she had once been.

"Can I ask you another question?" she asked softly.

"Why didn't I tell you sooner?" he asked heavily. "I think –"

Lois shook her head. "No," she interjected. "Would you…um…would you walk with me?"

"Oh," he breathed as a smile spread across his face, and, in that moment, she could see the man she had come to know so well in his eyes. The man she had grown to love. "I'd – I'd like that," he answered simply, reaching out for her hand. Though her heartache caused her to hesitate for a few seconds, she finally reached out and took his hand. Their palms slid together, her fingers entwining with his, the movement so natural, they might have done this a million times. It was such a small and simple thing, to hold his hand, but for the two of them, it wasn't small or simple at all. It was the first step back to the people they used to be. "Thank you," he murmured softly as they began to walk together, and Lois didn't ask him to explain. In truth, she didn't need to.

His hand was warm in hers, the strong solidity of his body comforting as he strolled at her side. Finally, he spoke. "We should talk about what happened earlier. Between us, I mean." Though his voice was gentle, she stiffened, her hand going rigid in his, but he didn't let it go.

"Not yet," she breathed. The last thing she wanted to think about at the moment was their kiss or the way they had touched each other. "I'm not ready for that yet. I still need time, okay?" He didn't press her, but the subject still hovered in the air between them, filling the silence with things left unsaid. Finally, scrambling to find a safer topic, she blurted, "Has there been any progress on figuring out where we go next?"

Though his mouth twisted momentarily into a grimace, Clark let the subject go without comment. Instead, he nodded his head slowly. "Well, maybe. It's not great, but at least it's something." She looked at him expectantly, prompting him to continue. "Since the approach worked before, Ollie was hoping that the people left on your list would be throwing a big party soon, so we could sneak in and get a look around. Unfortunately, he doesn't think either of them has one planned in the near future."

"Oh," she said, her lips forming a moue of disappointment. "Well, it's a setback, but we can handle it, I think. We just need to stake out their houses, learn their schedules a bit. Then, when we get a chance, I'll sneak in and –"

"Wait a minute!" Clark broke in, turning to stand in front of her, though he didn't release her hand. "I didn't say we had to do anything that dangerous! We have managed to come up with another plan, even if it's not ideal. And you and I talked about this. You won't be going in there alone. I'll be going with you!"

Lois huffed in mild irritation. "Okay, fine," she groused. "So what plan does he have to get _us _in there?"

Clark looked vaguely apologetic. "Well…how do you feel about wearing a French maid uniform?" he asked sheepishly.

She groaned. She should have known. Somehow, when Clark had seemed so reluctant to share Ollie's plan with her, she should have at least suspected that it would come down to something like this. "Oh, wonderful," she groaned. Throwing him a wry smile, she shrugged. "Not great," she admitted, a teasing glint lighting in her eye. "But at least I can rest assured that I'll probably look better in it than you."


	21. Chapter 21: Beneath the Masks They Wear

**Chapter 21: Beneath the Masks They Wear**

"Lois, I'm not sure this is a good idea," Clark muttered as he ducked into the room behind Lois, shutting the door quietly behind him.

She didn't even bother to glance at him as she looked around the room. This was supposed to be the bedroom, but there was no bed in it. Instead, it was filled with large, bulky pieces of furniture. Several dressers stood along the walls – or at least what Lois would call dressers. They might technically have been "credenzas" or "highboys" for all she knew. There certainly were enough of them. In the middle of the room were two large plush chairs, a sofa, and a low table. Shaking her head, Lois thought churlishly that only the super rich could have an area the size of her entire apartment as an anteroom leading to their bedroom.

On the other side of the room, two large double doors stood closed, and she figured the bed stood on the other side. Remembering that she had no time to waste thinking about the extravagances of the obscenely rich, she strode over to the nearest dresser and pulled open the top drawer, feeling around inside. "It'll be fine, Clark," she said absently as she ran her fingers along the inside of the drawer.

He walked up behind her. "Well, why don't you just tell me what you're searching for, and I'll take a look around and see if I can find it," he offered.

Closing the top drawer, she pulled out the one directly underneath. "I would," she admitted, "Except I don't know what I'm looking for. I figure I'll know it when I find it."

A heavy sigh met her remark, so she paused and looked at Clark over her shoulder. Straightening, she turned to face him. "Look, I know you're not comfortable with this plan…" she began.

"Why wouldn't I be comfortable with this plan?" he asked, interrupting her. "On a flimsy excuse, we've snuck inside the house of a man who, for all we know, could be a sociopathic killer. We're rooting around his bedroom, two floors away from where we're supposed to be working, so if we get caught, we don't even have a good excuse. And you're in a French maid's uniform that makes a handkerchief look big by comparison. As far as I can tell, the plan is practically flawless!"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "If we get caught, we'll deal with it. It's no big deal," she said.

"It's you putting yourself in danger. Again," he retorted. "I just wish you'd let me do this on my own."

"Not a chance," she said flatly.

Rolling his eyes at her, he shot back, "Okay. Well, what are we going to do if we get caught? Pretend we got lost looking for the bathroom?"

Turning back to the dresser, Lois reached for a drawer when a sound in the hallway caught her attention. Someone was coming their way. Whirling, she slugged Clark in the arm. "What was that for?" he asked, looking at her in surprise.

"You jinxed us!" Lois hissed at him through gritted teeth as she scanned the room. There were no good places to hide, so she dragged him through the double doors and into the room on the far end. Closing the doors behind her, she eyed the area under the bed but quickly discarded it as a possible hiding spot. However, against the left wall, she saw a doorway that looked like it might lead to a closet, so she grabbed her companion's hand and dragged him towards it.

"What are we, six?" he grumbled behind her, apparently still focused on her comment, as he let her tow him across the room. She opened the door and started to shove him inside, but he caught her arm at the last moment and dragged her in after him, closing the door behind her.

Lois exhaled her breath in a whoosh as she found herself pulled against Clark's body, and she placed both her hands on his chest to steady herself. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I don't have to hide! I can talk my way out of this, easy!"

He shook his head. "You said we were in this together, Lois. Well, I've decided that in this partnership, if you get to dictate where we're going to search, I get to decide what's necessary to keep you from getting killed while we do it."

Sighing heavily, she tried to pull away from him but there just wasn't enough room to move. She looked around, annoyed that they'd managed to confine themselves in such a small space. She'd always thought that the super rich had enormous closets. It took her a moment to realize that they probably did, but it just happened that Lois and Clark had managed to take cover in a shoe closet. An entire small closet devoted to racks and racks of shoes. Lois would have been slightly envious if it weren't so damn annoying.

"I'd be fine, Clark," she groused softly. "I'd pretend I'd just gotten lost or something."

"And when they didn't believe you, you'd be dead," he pointed out. "Besides, it's too late now. Whoever it is, they're in the outer room. Unless you want to be caught. In that outfit. In the bedroom."

She opened her mouth to challenge his words, but then she realized that he had a point. It probably wouldn't be the most prudent thing she'd ever done. So instead she snapped her mouth closed and turned her face away from him, staring at the back of the door as if she might find a way to see through it if she just tried hard enough. In reality, she was trying not to think of how close the two of them were. She could feel the warmth of his skin through their clothing, although she tried her hardest not to allow their bodies to touch. Her back was ramrod straight, the shelves of shoes digging into her spine as she held herself away from him.

How had she not realized before just how big he was? In this little space, he seemed huge! He shifted, his arm brushing against her stomach and she sucked in a sharp breath. She could hear their breathing, which sounded absurdly loud in this confined space, and she considered telling him to stop breathing so loudly, except that she knew it would sound absurd.

But every breath she took, she felt like she was breathing him in. The scent of him was all around her; she couldn't escape. "Clark," she whispered, not even realizing she'd spoken until she saw, out of the corner of her eye, him turn his head and look down at her.

"Yes, Lois?" he asked, his voice a husky undertone that shot shivers up her spine.

She felt foolish, uncertain of what to say next. She couldn't just leave it there, but she hadn't consciously spoken his name aloud. And now, having him this close, looking at her the way he was, she couldn't think. She couldn't concentrate, not even to come up with a convenient lie. With her breath rasping in her chest, she shook her head.

He seemed to misunderstand her gesture, because he reached out to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, offering her comfort. "It's okay," he said softly, breathing the words into her ear. The touch of his breath tickled, and she shivered again. "I'll get us out of here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

It already had. It already was. Didn't he see that? As if compelled by a force beyond her control, Lois lifted her hands and pressed her palms against his chest. He was so warm, so solid. She remembered the way he'd found her, underneath the water, and pressed his lips against her, breathing life into her as she'd fought for air. She remembered the way he'd held her as he carried her to the surface, the way she'd lay curled up in his arms. He'd held her so close, his touch firm but strangely gentle, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

The fabric of his shirt wrinkled under her palm as she slid her hand up to his shoulder, curving her fingers around his neck. Her eyes were locked on his. For one moment, she forgot where they were or why the two of them were hiding in this absurd little closet. Clark filled her senses, so close to her that he drove away all rational thought.

She remembered how he'd kissed her. Had it really been just a few days before? How he'd held her in his arms. The taste of his lips. The way he'd pressed himself against her.

She felt her body sway towards his again. His breath was hot against her cheek, and she wanted to give herself over to the comfort of his embrace. She saw the muscle in his neck jump as he swallowed heavily. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against that soft patch of skin, and she felt the muscle jump beneath her lips.

Turning her head, she nuzzled him with her cheek, unconsciously seeking comfort. Then she drew back slowly, her lips barely brushing the skin along the line of his jaw to his chin as she pulled away. His eyes locked on hers as he tilted his head and leaned towards her, and she knew they were about to kiss. And maybe this time, they wouldn't be able to stop.

God, how could she still want him like this? After everything that had happened, she'd told herself that they needed to take it slow. They had to get back to where they had once been before they could move forward. She needed time; she'd told him as much. So why was the thought of kissing him so damn tempting?

She wanted him, and he said he wanted her. Maybe she should just give in to it. Her lips parted as he leaned in towards her, and her flesh tingled in anticipation of his kiss. She wanted this. Her head tilted back. She wanted him. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and found that she could still taste him on her lips. She wanted –

"I gave Chloe your football jersey," she blurted in an undertone when his lips were just a few millimeters away from her own.

Clark paused for a moment and then straightened to look down at her in confusion. "What?" he asked in a low voice.

Lois blinked in surprise, wondering where that thought had come from. She hadn't planned on telling him that; it had just popped out of her mouth. Clearing her throat softly, she murmured, "I – uh – I gave Chloe your football jersey." The moment had passed and they weren't getting it back; perhaps her mouth had saved her from making a huge mistake.

Thankful that he probably couldn't see her well enough to notice her flush, Lois whispered sheepishly, "I had it. I mean, I took it. A long time ago. I – you said something about how important it was to keep mementos of the people you care about, so I-I took your jersey. So I would have one of you."

"Oh," he said softly, though he still sounded slightly confused. As if he didn't know where this conversational topic had come from. To be fair, neither did Lois. "Um. Well, you can keep it, you know. I mean, I want you to have it."

"No!" she breathed, unconsciously clenching the fabric of his shirt with her hand. "I don't want it!"

Now he looked even more confused, and slightly hurt as well. "You don't?" he murmured.

Lois shook her head. "No. Not now. I don't –"

She was just about to continue when Clark stiffened and she fell silent. He lifted his head, turning to look at the door. "He's just outside the double doors," he breathed, his words barely audible. Lois tensed, forgetting all about the football jersey. "Lex," Clark hissed after a few seconds, and Lois opened her mouth to ask him how he knew, but then she remembered his x-ray powers.

She stifled a groan, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out of this situation. If she were caught, it would be bad enough. But she couldn't risk Lex finding Clark.

Lois clutched the front of Clark's shirt in her fists as she stared up at him. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she said in a low undertone. "If Lex is searching these rooms, then he's going to find us. But you can't be seen by him, Clark. You can't. As soon as his back is turned, I want you to do that speeding off thing that you do and get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you," her companion growled irritably. "I can take you out of here with me."

She shook her head. "No. It looks like Lex is doing his own investigating, and we need to know what he knows."

"This isn't what we planned!" Clark retorted in an emphatic whisper.

"That's why they call it improvisation," she shot back in an equally soft voice. "I'll be fine, Clark. Trust me. Okay?" Her hands flattened against his chest once more. "Trust me. Run out of here as fast as you can; don't let him see you. I'll keep him distracted. We have to keep you safe, Clark!"

He shook his head angrily. "No, there is nothing more important to me than keeping you out of danger. If you think I'm going to leave you here –"

"You will because you have to, Clark!" she interjected. "I want this over. This investigation, the charade, all of it! I want this finished so that we can move on! I'm sick of skulking around in the shadows and pretending to be someone I'm not! I want this over, right now! I need you to trust me, Clark, and do what I ask you to do! I know you want to protect me, but the best way to do that is for you to leave before he sees you. If something happens to you, then you know I'm screwed. Right? The best thing you can do for me, right now, is to get out of danger and stay that way. As soon as you get out of here, call Ollie and everyone and tell them what happened. I'll keep looking around here, even if I have to do it with Lex, and I'll get in contact with you as soon as it's safe and tell you what we find."

"I don't trust him," Clark growled, his hand tightening against Lois's lower back.

"I don't either," she replied evenly. "But I don't have to trust him to get what I need from him. Look, there's no time to talk about this now. I want to stay here, but you need to go. He can't know about you, and you have to be safe so you can pull my ass out of the fire if anything goes wrong." She heard the double doors open and then shut quietly. "He can help me rummage around in dresser drawers; I can't trust him to be there for me if something goes wrong. I need you for that. Please?"

There was a moment of frustrated silence. He clearly didn't like what he was being asked to do, his mouth was pressed in a grim line and a muscle in his jaw jumped angrily, but he gave her a curt nod. "I'll always be there for you when you need me, Lois. I promise." Then he grabbed her and pressed a quick kiss against her lips. Almost before Lois had registered the contact, he sped away and was gone.

With a shaky breath, Lois looked down at the latch to the closet door. It was incredible; he'd sped out of here faster than a blink and still shut the door behind him softly enough that she didn't hear anything. Would she ever get used to the amazing things that he could do?

Putting her hand on the latch, she swung open the door and stepped into the room. Directly in front of her, she saw Lex, his head bowed as he rifled through some papers on a small writing desk. She watched without making a noise as he straightened and turned. There was a flicker of surprise on his face when he saw her, and then they stood there in silence, their eyes locked, as they sized each other up as one would an opponent.

It was Lex who finally broke the silence. "Well, well. So you're still alive," he drawled.

"Disappointed?" she challenged, arching her eyebrows at him.

"But not surprised," he agreed. "I should have known it wouldn't be that easy to get rid of you."

"Better luck next time," she said as she stood still waited for him to launch an offensive. She had no doubt that he would.

To her surprise, he smiled at her, and the expression made her want to throw something at him. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he stepped forward. Every line of his body radiated a deceptive insouciance, and after a moment he said lightly, "A couple of days ago, I was told that you were dead, and I haven't heard word of you since. Where have you been hiding?" Her smile was sugary sweet as she shook her head at him, knowing her refusal to answer would irritate him. A flash of annoyance lit his eyes, and then he pressed, "I should have known you weren't dead when nobody could find your body."

"I was investigating. And this really isn't the best place to talk about this, is it?" she asked curtly as she turned and walked towards the door. Of course, she had no doubt that Lex would continue to grill her. However, if she was going to be subjected to the third degree in enemy territory, she'd just as soon it happened at the Luthor Mansion and not when she was dressed in a French maid uniform.

She was halfway across the room when she heard him say in a casual voice behind her, "You know, they never found Clark's body either, did they?"

Lois froze, every muscle in her body stiffening. Her pulse skittered and then her heart began to race, the blood racing in her ears. Trying very hard to look casual, she turned and croaked through lips gone suddenly dry, "I'm sorry?"

He was staring intently at her, watching her every move, noting her every reaction. Like a hawk assessing its prey. And Lois knew she was on very thin ice. His voice was still deceptively casual, however, when he said, "Clark's body. I've had people out trying to recover it, but so far, they haven't found a thing." Then, with a slight quirk of his lips in a parody of a smile, he said in feigned sympathy, "I thought you might want to have something of him to bury."

She tilted her chin up and tried to pretend like her heart wasn't hammering in her chest. It made her nervous to be this close to Lex when she still had the taste of Clark's skin on her lips. As if he might be able to smell Clark on her and know he was alive. Lex began to circle her, each move slow and deliberate, and her sense of being prey sharpened. She hated that feeling, and she hated worse that he could so easy inflict it. In as steady a voice as she could manage, she said evenly, "I told you. There was an explosion."

"An explosion so intense that it vaporized his remains? A fire that burned so hot that all that's left is ash?" he asked skeptically, his gaze locked on her face as he watched for her reaction.

"You tell me, Lex. It was your warehouse," she spat waspishly at him.

"And it was your fault he was there," he replied in a far calmer tone. Lois tore her gaze away from his face and swallowed, and she heard him chuckle softly in victory. In two long strides, he came face-to-face with her, and he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "You know, Lois, I'm beginning to think we've been going about this all wrong. Maybe all of this shouldn't just be for show."

Since she knew he hated her almost as much as she loathed him, Lois knew he didn't really mean what he said. "So you can torture me on a full-time basis?" she demanded as she glowered at him.

He seemed unperturbed by her hostility. "Not entirely," he responded mildly. In the face of her obvious skepticism, he smiled. "You said it yourself, my dear. I always want what Clark had." As he spoke, he reached for her, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck. It was a parody of a loving gesture, as he fisted his hand in her hair and pulled, drawing her head back. It didn't hurt, but Lois couldn't get away as he leaned in as if to kiss her.

Before he could make contact, she reached for him and pinched the soft skin of his stomach as hard as she could, twisting it until he let out a surprised hiss and released her. "I don't think so," she replied, as if nothing untoward had just transpired between them. Then, to prove that he didn't have her as cowed as he would liked to have thought, she said, "Lana may have been willing to settle for you, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to do the same."

She had intended her words to hurt, but he turned the tables on her. Instead of looking angry, as she expected, he laughed. "You're right. Lana did settle for me. I was nothing but her second choice, but at least I knew that going in. It's what happens when you come between two people who were always meant to be together." He paused for effect and then went in for the kill. "And you know that's what Lana and Clark were for each other, don't you? Meant to be together. Oh, they may not have managed to make it work." He leaned in to her and whispered conspiratorially, "I may have had something to do with that." Straightening, he continued in his previous tone, "But there's just no denying that Lana will always be the first girl Clark loved. The woman he would choose to be with, if he had the choice. Nobody will ever take her place in his heart. He would have died for her."

"Instead he died for me," Lois responded flatly, knowing that was where he was going and figuring she might as well beat him to the punch.

"Oh, no. He would have died _for _Lana. He died _because _of you. There's a difference," Lex corrected her. She sucked in a sharp breath, and he reveled in his minor victory as he asked with false sympathy, "How does it feel to know that?"

"What does it matter?" she demanded angrily, her hands fisted at her sides. "What do you hope to accomplish by reminding me of what Lana and Clark had together? He's dead, remember? You can't hurt him by any of this, so why don't you just give it up?"

"I can't hurt him," he conceded. "But I can hurt you. It's not quite as good, but it'll do." With a snarl of disgust, she turned and stormed towards the door. He followed, and when she reached for the latch, he covered her hand with his own. "It wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't true, you know."

Sucking in a deep breath, Lois tried to calm down as she turned her head to look up at him. She knew he was watching her, enjoying every second of pain that he inflicted upon her. But she could afford to give him this minor victory in battle; it was more important that she win the war. "You have no idea what it's like to love someone, do you, Lex?" she asked pityingly after a moment.

"No," he responded quietly. "But I do know what it's like to hate someone." Grabbing a lock of her hair between his fingers, he stroked its silky texture as he asked in a deceptively light voice, "Do you?" She narrowed her eyes at him, answering his question with a glare rather than words. "And who do you hate?"

Rolling her eyes at him, she said, "Look, we're wasting time. Can we get going? I'm sure that you think torturing me is a lot of fun, but we really don't want to get caught here."

Lex shook his head slightly. Clearly he didn't mind getting caught snooping around in Steve Miller's bedroom. If they got caught, he probably had a story ready. Actually, being who he was, he probably thought he didn't need one. So he just stood here and stared at her. He didn't move, and she knew he wouldn't until she answered his question.

"Well, you're pretty close to the top of my list," she said sweetly, forcing a smile.

"What about Clark?" he asked, unperturbed by her response. "Is he on your list?"

She looked away from him, staring at their hands on the latch. "Sometimes," she admitted. "I don't know." Then she gave the latch a vicious yank and pulled the door open.

Lex fell into step beside her as she stormed down the hall. "So, since you're no longer pretending to be dead, I suppose you have a plan. Want to tell me what it is?"

Lois almost smiled. She hated Lex, and she knew he hated her almost as much. But yet he knew her, in some ways, just like she knew him. She didn't know whether to be amused by that thought or merely disgusted, so she decided to go for amusement. "I do have a plan," she admitted, glancing over at him. "You're going to hold a press conference."

"And you think that's going to make a difference, draw our mutual nemesis out into the open, when nothing else has?" Lex challenged her.

She nodded. "Yes, because we're going to give him something that he won't be able to resist." She saw her companion turn his head to look at her and said with great self-satisfaction, "We're going to give him you."

He winced, and it was her turn to feel victorious.

---

Clark walked through the door and slammed it behind him. Oliver and Chloe turned from their computers at the interruption and looked at him in surprise. "Where's Lois?" Chloe asked.

"With Lex," Clark snapped, though he tried to keep his face emotionless. "Long story."

Oliver sighed as he stared at his friend's face. Recognizing the storm that was brewing under Clark's stoic demeanor, he decided to intervene. "Well, then, I know you're probably not in the mood to think about anything else, but as it happens, we have news. That friend I told you about in Gotham? He came through for us."

Though Clark was still concerned about Lois and angry at himself for having left her behind, his curiosity was temporarily piqued. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, looking up at the computer screens as Chloe hit a few buttons.

As she pulled up a file, she explained, "I was doing some digging of my own when I got a message this morning. This file was attached. I tried to trace it, but…" She shrugged as her voice trailed off.

"Yeah, I could have told you that was a waste of time," Ollie told her with a smile. "He's too good for that. The man dresses like an overgrown rodent, but he's the smartest person I know." He paused for a second and then amended, "Well, the smartest human. No offense, Chloe."

"None taken," she replied, though an expression of irritation crossed her face for a brief second. "Anyway, I don can't say know how smart he is, but he does know his way around a computer, I'll give him that. He sent us this."

As she hit a button, a video popped up on the screen. It was black and white, the picture grainy, but two men were clearly visible on the tape.

"Who are they?" Clark asked, staring at them intently.

"According to the message that came with the video file, Ollie's mysterious pen pal seems to think they might be the men who attacked Lois on the bridge," Chloe answered.

Taking a step forward, Clark said, "The picture quality's not good enough for me to tell if they're the same guys who attacked Lois and me at the warehouse. Any chance you can clean it up a bit?"

"No need. He did it for us." There was an edge to her voice, as if Chloe considered it a personal affront that he would be a step ahead of them. Hitting a couple more keys, a clearer version of the feed came up on the screen. "He cleared up the video," she hit another button, "tracked these two using the footage to get us a better picture of their faces," she hit a button a pulled up the picture in question, "and used that photograph to identify our mystery men." As she finished, she hit a key on the keyboard and information on the men in the picture pulled up on another screen.

"John Walker and Robert Dawson," Clark said as he stared at the faces in front of him. His gaze traveled to the clearer picture of the two men and sharpened on the taller man's cheek. Even in the somewhat blurry, deep scratch marks that still hadn't healed were apparent on his right cheek. "It's them."


End file.
